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JAN \ 

Life and Letters 


Fenton John Anthony Hort 

D.D., D.C.L., LL.D. 





A life devoted to truth is a life of vanities abased and 
ambitions forsworn. F. J. A. H. 





All rights reserved^ 





THE subject of this Memoir was little known outside 
the world of scholars ; and his published work could 
give but a partial view of the man, while in him the 
man was more even than the scholar. A scholar s life 
contains little of outward incident, and it has been my 
endeavour to tell the story of my father s life so far 
as possible in his own words. In all that he wrote his 
real self is shown, and nowhere more than in his letters. 
Hence this book may perhaps justify itself, if it enables 
the voice of a man who was interested in such a 
variety of subjects, and who spoke always with such 
singular sincerity, to reach beyond the limited circle 
of those who were privileged to know him in life. 

For the earlier years at least the epistolary material 
is enough, I think, to give a very fair portraiture. 
In later years his letters became inevitably fewer 
and shorter, but in all cases I have not scrupled to 
insert letters which, whatever their subjects, help 
to show what the writer was, as well as what he 
did and thought. I should add perhaps that in his 
letters he was wont to express his opinions with con 
siderable freedom ; he would unburden himself to a 


friend with a remarkable absence of the reserve which 
otherwise characterised his utterances. For this very 
reason it would not be right to give to the world 
without a caution views which he never meant for 
publication ; moreover, his letters, even of undergradu 
ate days, often show a maturity of thought and expres 
sion which is apt to make one forget the writer s age. 

In the brief narrative which accompanies the selec 
tion of correspondence, I have aimed generally at little 
more than filling up with necessary dates and facts the 
story presented in the letters. For obvious reasons a 
critical biography could not be part of my plan, and, 
if my narrative is more than necessarily jejune, it is 
because I have tried so far as possible to avoid a tone 
of eulogy which would have been very unfitting, and 
which my father would vehemently have deprecated 
if indeed he would have approved of his life being 
written at all. I am conscious, however, that I have not 
altogether succeeded in keeping the balance ; I could 
wish that this were the only shortcoming in the 
execution of a task which has been one of considerable 
difficulty as well as of extreme delight. I have quoted 
freely from the words, written or printed, of others, 
especially in cases where I could claim no special 
knowledge, or where it was difficult for a son to adopt 
the necessary * detachment of attitude. 

To all such, and to very many others, named or 
unnamed in these pages, I am deeply indebted ; 
especially to the Bishop of Durham, for the generous 
freedom which he has allowed me in the use of his 



letters ; to Mrs. Ellerton, for invaluable help of the 
same kind ; to Professor Ryle, who, to his numerous 
other acts of devotion to my father s name, has added 
that of reading the proofs and giving me his counsel ; 
and above all, to one without whose constant aid I 
could not have attempted this book. 

I desire also to thank Miss J. Craig for clerical assist 
ance, given in a manner and in a spirit on which my 
father himself would have bestowed the praise of 
guileless workmanship. 

HARROW-ON-THE-HILL, November 1895. 









1841-1846. Age 13-18. 




1846-1850. Age 18-22. 



1851-1857. Age 22-29. 





1857-1863. Age 29-35. 





ENTON JOHN ANTHONY HORT was born at Dublin 
the 23rd of April 1828. His father, Fenton Hort, was the 
grandson of Josiah Hort, who is the earliest of the name 
of whom any record is preserved. Josiah s father lived 
at Marshfield, near Bath, but that is the solitary fact in 
his history handed down to his descendants. His son, 
of whom an account is given in the Dictionary of National 
Biography, was brought up as a Nonconformist, and 
was a schoolfellow and lifelong friend of Isaac Watts, 1 
who spoke of him as " the first genius in the academy," 
viz. an academy for Nonconformist ministers to which 
they both belonged. Hort conformed after a time to 
the Church of England, and went to Clare College, 
Cambridge ; in 1 709 he crossed to Ireland as chap 
lain to Earl Wharton, the Lord -Lieutenant. Lord 
Wharton s chaplain presently obtained a parish, whence 
he rose, through the deaneries of Cloyne and Ardagh, 
and two bishoprics, of Ferns and Leighlin, and of Kil- 
more and Ardagh, to be Archbishop of Tuam. He 
enjoyed some repute as a preacher, and a volume of his 

1 See Milner s Life of Dr. Watts (Cambridge, 1834). 


sermons " on practical subjects " went through several 
editions. He is said to have been the last magnate 
who ate his dinner from a wooden trencher. Dean 
Swift made a violent attack upon him in a satirical 
poem ; the rise of the English clergyman was apparently 
unpopular in Ireland, and he had to contend with much 
opposition. Swift, however, became afterwards so far 
friendly that he procured for Hort (or Horte, as he 
sometimes spelt his name) the publication of a satire 
on the prevalence of the game of quadrille in society. 
He was disabled from preaching by an overstrain of the 
voice some years before he became Archbishop. In the 
preface to his sermons he uses his own experience to 
point a warning to " all young preachers whose organs 
of speech are tender." The secret, he says, of public 
speaking lies " in finding out the right key." He depre 
cates loudness and vehemence, and concludes with the 
remark : " Experience shows that a moderate Degree 
of Voice, with a proper and distinct Articulation, is 
better understood in all Parts of a Church than a 
Thunder of Lungs that is rarely distinct, and never 
agreeable to the Audience." The sermons themselves 
are expressed in simple and dignified language ; indeed 
the English is perhaps better than the divinity. The 
author shows an anxiety to interpret the Bible in a 
manner " agreeable to the Principles of Philosophy and 
Morality," and he displays some ingenuity in the 
attempt ; for instance, when he explains the doctrine of 
Original Sin by the suggestion that the tree of which 
Adam ate contained in its juice a " slow poison which, 
being incorporated with the Blood of our first Parents, 
might in a natural course be transfused through the 
Veins of all their Posterity, and carry with it irregular 
Desires and Passions, as well as Diseases and Death," 


This somewhat startlingly literal exegesis is illustrated 
by reference to " a Tree in our American colonies (the 
Manchineel Tree) that bears a very beautiful apple, which 
yet has poisoned many." The author is perhaps more 
fortunate in his practical discourses, one of which is 
entitled, " Great knowledge no excuse for neglecting to 
hear sermons," while another contains a rather forcible 
protest against duelling : " I could therefore wish," he 
concludes, " that our gallant spirits would consider these 
Things when Affronts are broiling in their Stomachs, 
and their Blood is kindling to draw the Sword for an 
ill-chosen or ill-understood Word." 

The Archbishop died in 1751. In his will he 
exhorted his children to carry out his intentions in their 
obvious sense, " without having recourse to law and the 
subtilty of lawyers " ; in case of difficulty, he desires 
them to refer the question to " the decision of persons 
of known probity and wisdom, this being not only the 
most Christian, but the most prudent and cheap and 
summary way of deciding all differences." 

He had married the Lady Elizabeth Fitzmaurice, 
daughter of the Lord of Kerry ; their second son, 
John, married the daughter of Sir Fitzgerald Aylmer, 
of Donadea, who belonged to a branch of the Butler 
family ; moreover, two of the Archbishop s daughters 
married into the Caldwell and Coghill families respec 
tively, so that not many years after Josiah s migration 
the Horts had established a fair claim to be considered 

John Hort was appointed in 1767 Consul-General 
at Lisbon, and was made a baronet the same year. He 
was sent out by Lord Lansdowne as a trusted semi- 
political agent, and it appears that the Government and 
the English ambassador were often annoyed because 


earlier information was thus obtained than they could 
themselves command. Attempts were made to detain 
him in England, but he spent thirty years in Portugal, 
and then retired on a pension. An estate in Co. Kildare, 
called Hortland, came to him on the death of his elder 
brother. If one may judge of him by a fine portrait, 
he was a man of considerable power. He is said to 
have been of peculiar temperament, and something of a 

Sir John had three sons and two daughters. The 
third son, Fen ton, who was the father of the subject 
of this memoir, was educated at Westminster School 
and at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he obtained 
a scholarship. He was one of the original members of 
the Union Debating Society, which was founded in 
1815, and temporarily suppressed by authority in 
1817, W. Whewell being at the time president and C. 
Thirlwall secretary. 

In 1830, four years after his marriage to Anne 
Collett, daughter of a Suffolk clergyman, and descended, 
I believe, from Dean Colet, Fenton Hort bought a 
house near Dublin, called Leopardstown ; it was 
delightfully situated at the foot of the Three Rock 
Mountain, with a view of Dublin Bay in front Here, 
after his father s death, his mother lived with him for 
part of the year ; the rest he spent at her house in 
Merrion Square, Dublin. 

At this house on St. George s Day, 1828, Fenton, 
his eldest son, was born. When he was nine years 
old, his father sold Leopardstown, and migrated to 
Cheltenham, after a temporary residence at Kelsall 
Hall, lent him by Mr. Collett, and a short stay at 
Boulogne, where Fenton at the age of ten was sent 
to his first school. His master, a Mr. Bird, in December 


1838 reported of his pupil as "by far more industrious 
and advanced than any of his class-fellows ; in fact, he 
renders all the rest lazy since they all depend on him 
for the construe. " He was then about to begin 
" Homer and Xenophon s Anabasis with Horace or 
Virgil and Cicero." At Cheltenham Mr. Fenton Hort 
resided in various houses till 1851, his mother living 
with him till her death in 1843. The move from 
Leopardstown was made rather suddenly, and my 
father was never in Ireland again till he went to Dublin 
in 1888 to receive an honorary degree from the 
University. On this occasion, after the lapse of over 
fifty years, he drew overnight from memory a plan of 
the house and grounds at Leopardstown, which he the 
next day compared with the reality, and found to be 
completely accurate. Of his early years there and at 
Cheltenham it is unfortunately impossible to recover 
more than a fragmentary account. He used to look 
back to the Leopardstown home and days with the 
most loving recollection, especially when across a time 
of grievous troubles that earliest period stood out as 
one of peculiar peace and happiness. Many years later, 
in describing the Fellows garden at Trinity, he dwelt 
with a special delight on the flowers, the blue Apennine 
anemone and the scented Daphne Cneorum, which he 
associated with favourite nooks in the beautiful old Irish 

School letters show the kind of relation which 
existed between Fenton and the rest of the home 
circle. Of the father no truer description could be 
given than that contained in a touching letter 1 written 
by his eldest son to his own children in 1878. His 
quiet, unostentatious, unselfish nature comes back to 
1 See vol. ii. pp. 198-201. 


those who knew it with almost a regret, as if its beauty, 
even by reason of its own self-forgetfulness, had been at 
the time but half realised. He had no profession, but 
was always a busy man. In the Irish days he was 
much occupied with the administration of the Poor Law, 
and with many other kindred things. In Cheltenham 
he took up the same kind of work, visited a great 
deal among the poor, and had a considerable share 
in the establishment of the Cheltenham Proprietary 
College, of which he became a governor. The same 
unobtrusive devotion was shown in the direction of 
his own household, where a strict regime prevailed, 
and all were expected to conform to the rules of the 
house. Towards his children he was all gentleness 
and tenderness, though his training of them, like their 
mother s, was based on implicit obedience. Though 
not demonstrative in showing affection, he was a man 
who loved much and felt much ; the past, especially 
the past of his own family, was constantly with him. 
He was a most tender son to the mother who shared 
his home till her death ; the loss of his sister at an 
early age was a calamity whose effect had not worn 
off at the very end of his life. He treasured little 
memorials of those whom he had lost with almost 
womanly care. One characteristic at least he be 
queathed to his son, a fastidious love of order and 
method. This trait is curiously illustrated by the 
numerous ingeniously contrived cardboard boxes, still 
extant, and sometimes of the oddest shapes, which 
he delighted to make ; his wife called them his con 
traptions. In a word, he was thoroughly domestic ; 
home to him was everything, and the home life was 
a real society. Parents and children spent long 
evenings together after six -o clock dinner, and the 


father frequently read aloud, Scott being perhaps the 
favourite author. This custom survived long after all 
the children were grown up. 

The mother, who, unconsciously perhaps, was the 
real controlling force of the household, was a woman 
of great mental power, which she brought to bear on 
every detail of daily life. She had been extremely 
well educated, so far as the opportunities of that day 
allowed ; in English especially her training had been 
sound, and she could always express herself easily and 
gracefully ; both in writing and in speaking she used 
words in the most exact manner. Her education had 
given her the thoroughness and scrupulous accuracy 
which she transmitted to her son. She grasped firmly 
whatever she took in hand and mastered any book 
which she read. Her reading was not wide, but she 
was interested in current literature of the more serious 
sort, such as biographies and books of travel. Her 
religious feelings were deep and strong. Circumstances 
had made her an adherent of the Evangelical school, 
and she was to a certain degree hampered by it ; the 
Oxford Movement filled her with dread and anxiety 
as to its possible effect on her son. She was unable 
to enter into his theological views, which to her school 
and generation seemed a desertion of the ancient 
ways ; thus, pathetically enough, there came to be a 
barrier between mother and son. The close inter 
course on subjects which lay nearest to the hearts of 
each was broken, to the loss and sorrow of both. 
His love and veneration for his mother remained 
unimpaired, and his letters to her show his delicate 
consideration for her different point of view ; but it is 
sad that he should have had to recognise that the 
point of view was different. She studied and knew her 


Bible well, and her own religious life was most carefully 
regulated. She had a fine ear for music, and it was 
a rare pleasure to hear her read aloud. Her spirits 
were naturally high, and she faced the ordinary ups 
and downs of life with cheerful courage ; but ill-health, 
brought on probably by the loss, within a few months, 
of two of her children, robbed her of her natural 
brightness and caused often painful depression. In 
bringing up her children she was strong enough to 
be able to combine the enforcement of very strict 
domestic discipline with close sympathy in all childish 
ways and interests. The very keynote of her character 
was truthfulness ; untruth in any shape was her ab 
horrence. Almost equally characteristic was her 
hatred of all half performance. " I hate mediocrity " 
was one of her many favourite sayings. It is easy to 
understand how straight, under such guidance, the path 
of duty became to her children ; the daily tasks must 
be learnt and said, and nothing might stand in the 
way. There is a story of her sitting with her eldest 
son on a roll of carpet during some flitting of the 
family, and going through the appointed lessons, with 
which no temporary discomfort could be allowed to 
interfere. Yet she was no Spartan mother ; strength 
of will and inflexibility of purpose did not make her, 
any more than they made her son, incapable of ten 
derness. It is difficult to analyse such a character. 
This sketch must suffice to indicate the nature of her 
influence on her family. To her it is evident that in 
a great degree her son owed his absolute truthfulness 
of soul, uprightness of character, and overmastering 
sense of duty ; and not least, the deep trust in God 
which he inherited from her own courageous convic 
tion, and which was strengthened by her careful 


religious training. This was based upon a close 
study of the Bible, of the children s knowledge of 
which in quite early years records remain which might 
astonish many older children. The effects of such 
training were very deep and lasting, however much 
particular theological opinions were modified in later 
years ; the simple piety and reverential spirit which 
passed from mother to son remained unaffected by 
time and experience. 

At the time of the move from Ireland there were 
four children two girls and two boys ; the second boy, 
Arthur, was three years Fenton s junior ; his sisters, 
Margaret and Catharine, were born in 1830 and 1833 
respectively. A third daughter, Josephine, was born 
at Boulogne in 1838, but died at the age of three. 
This was the beginning of trouble. Only five months 
later Arthur, a child whose sweetness of disposition 
and bright intelligence impress one wonderfully even in 
the slight records of his short life, died from the after 
effects of measles. His loss had the profoundest effect 
on his brother. The series of diaries which he kept from 
1842 to 1892 is broken only once, and that during a 
period of two and a half years from Arthur s death. 

The family having settled in Cheltenham, Fenton 
was sent in the spring of 1839, being then just eleven 
years old, to the well-known preparatory school of the 
Rev. John Buckland at Laleham, where he stayed till 
the end of the following year. Mr. Buckland laid 
great stress on accurate grammatical knowledge, and 
required rules of syntax to be learnt by heart, but he 
mentions in a letter to Mr. Fenton Hort that he does 
not any longer insist on \heproprta quae maribus or 
the as in praesenti being committed to memory. The 
learning of large quantities of Latin verse was in 


vogue at Laleham, as at Rugby, the first two books of 
the odes of Horace, for instance, being set as a prize- 
task to boys of twelve or thirteen. Mr. Buckland s 
first regular report of Fenton speaks of him as " a very 
promising pupil," and says that there is no doubt of 
his becoming " a first-rate scholar." A year later he 
speaks in even higher terms, and he does not seem to 
have been a man who shrank from giving true reports 
to the parents. At the age of twelve and a half the 
boy had apparently been well grounded in Classics, 
Algebra, and the first three books of Euclid. Mr. 
Buckland s chief complaint was that he wanted more 
taste for games. At the time of his leaving Laleham 
he predicts a distinguished future as the certain out 
come of his " indefatigable perseverance and foundation 
of good scholarship." When asked by Mr. Hort to 
point out any flaws in the boy s character, he mentions 
that he has heard of him as somewhat overbearing 
with other boys, a characteristic which assuredly was 
not permanent. Of his home letters from Laleham 
unfortunately none have been preserved, but a delight 
ful picture of the relations between the brothers is 
given by Arthur s letters of the year 1840, when he 
was eight to nine years old ; and the parents letters 
add something to the impression. It is difficult to 
make out at this distance of time what they thought of 
their eldest son ; it is certain that they recognised his 
ability and force of character, and it is equally certain 
that they never put him forward or in any way made 
a show of him. Separate copies of Fenton s letters 
from school and of extracts from his reports were made 
by the father for himself and his wife, and preserved in 
neat cases made by his own hand. 

Fenton seems very early to have established a sort 


of ascendancy at home. Probably the characteristic 
which chiefly impressed those around him was his 
force. Definiteness of purpose and unswerving, almost 
stern, rectitude of conduct seem terms hardly appli 
cable to childhood, but it is evident that in some such 
unusual ways he stood out as a marked child among 
those of his own age. It is likely that he was not a 
favourite with other children generally, and it is the 
more pleasant to observe how entirely he and his 
brother understood each other ; and the scores of 
playful letters which his sister Kate wrote to him help 
to show that he was regarded at home with respect, 
but not with distant respect ; yet one gathers that 
even there he was looked up to with a feeling not 
far removed from fear, as a being of character some 
what alarmingly strong and unyielding. Yet the 
sweetness of disposition, which was perhaps the most 
conspicuous side of his character to those who learnt 
to know him in his latest years, is discernible in his 
earliest letters, in which moreover nothing comes out 
so clearly as his thorough boyishness. On the sunny 
side of his disposition he had much in common with 
his brilliant and delightful younger sister (afterwards 
Mrs. Garnons Williams), who survived him but a 
month. No picture of him as he was in those days 
has survived, but he is said to have been singularly 
beautiful as a little child ; his wonderful blue eyes, 
which spoke eloquently of the vigorous life within, 
particularly impressed all those who came across 
him. One of the very few who can remember him 
as a child recalls that " he was so fond of reading 
that he generally buried himself in some nook with a 
book, and his mother often laughed at his gravity and 
studious habits. He was reserved and silent, always 


kind and amiable in manner, and unselfish, but we all 
were surprised at the way he came out in conversation ; 
as a young man he could talk on any topic, and his 
company was a real treat." 


FARNLEY LODGE, Wenesday, February iqth, 1840. 

Dearest Fenton I was very glad to hear from you. I 
want to know what was the name of the room in which you 
sleep. I have begun Greek with Mr. Kershaw I shall say 
to-day Ttpy I think that the caracters are rather easy and 
that the funnyist small letter is Xi . I have nearly finished 
the As in praesenti. I am not going to do any more of it. 
You have had Arnold s Greek Exercises before havenot you ? 
but not done them. As to being out of Ellirs I do not 
wonder because you have been at them a long time ever 
since you were with the 2d Mr. Smith. I saw on a board 
that there would be a steeplechase on April ist. Papa thinks 
it is an April fool. I forgot to tell you that Mr. Kershaw has 
begun to give me marks such as Bene, Optime. to-day I 
had my first one it was Bene. 

Was Priestley at all hurt when he knocked his head against 
the wall ? is he older than the former Priestley ? Madmoiselle 
Gobet sends her compliments to you and told me not to for 
get to remember you not to forget her. You have the same 
for your Prize-task as you thought you would have. I have 
given up the Elegy written in a Country Churchyard because 
it is so long and so mournful that I cannot learn it so 
quick as another thing however I intend learning another 
thing I have not fixed upon one yet. Do you intend 
going on with Henry 4t.h s Soliloquy on sleep. Do you 
know what Stone will have for his Prize-task or wether it is 
true that he is going away I have redd most of " Lamb s Tales 
from Shakspeare." I think Puck was a funny fellow in the 
Midsummer s night dream. 

1 The boys letters in this and the next chapter are printed with the 
original spelling and punctuation. 


Grandmamma told us a funny story of old Catty who 
was a servant of Lady Aylmer. Catty begged to sleep in a 
little room that was not in the house but near the Garden 
stove, after a few nights Catty came to Lady Aylmer and 
begged to be taken back to sleep in the house she said she 
heard the Fairies go by crying Quis Quis Quis Quis Miss 
Sharland Mag Kit Nurse and Lucy all send their love to you 
Goodbye dear Fenton and Believe me your ever affectionate 
Brother, A. J. HORT. 

Post-Script. Excuse Bad writing blots mistakes etc r - 


FARNLEY LODGE, February 2$fk, 1840. 

Dearest Fenton I think you asked me in your last letter 
but one if I ever played cricket with Nurse I never play it 
now. We have had several falls of snow since you went to 
Laleham but the snow has all melted away. You said you 
hoped I like Greek I like it very much. I did not know that 
you ever had the mark Melius. I do not wonder that you 
are surprised at our going on with Mdle. Gobet. Our quarter 
is up but we are to have 8 lessons more though only on 
Wenesdays. As to Greek I know all the caracters pretty 
well ?; and //, sadly puzzle me they are so much akin. When 
will you begin learning your Prize-task ? I have looked at that 
board since and I am afraid it is not an April fool as it is 
annual. I found the tracts you gave me I showed Mr. 
Kershaw your Musae Musam eating Rasberry jam and he 
laughed heartily at it. If you like that when a magazine 
comes I should send you the heads of the index I will do so 
if not tell me in your next letter. I hope when you say your 
Prize-task you will say it without a mistake I have fixed upon 
Cowper s tithe paying here it is 


Now all unwecome at his gate 
the clumsy swains alight 
with rueful faces and bald pates 
he trembles at the sight 



I will not give you any more of it except one verse because I 
daresay you know it. 5th verse. 

one wipes his nose upon his 
sleeve one spits upon the floor 
yet not to give offence or grieve 
holds up the cloth before. 

I think Cowper must have had some very funny ideas in his 
head when he wrote it. 


FARLEY LODGE, April i$th, 1840. 

Dearest Fenton As it is my turn to write to you I must 
scribble a few lines. We have not been to the royal wells for 
a week so I cannot tell about the Cockeys our gardens are 
in pretty good order. We got this morning 4 Sweetwilliams 
4 pinks 4 Phyollox and 4 Polyanthuses plants one each and 
i of them for you. Papa and Mamma gave them to us. As 
to Greek I am learning the Adjectives I will send you a small 
plan of our gardens here it is. ... Here is a little note from 
Kit. Wednesday Dear Jim Crow I have finished " Le 
premier pas " and learnt " Leiber Augustin " " the Guaracha " 
and the " national Russian waltz " and a few other tunes. 
Goodbye. C. Hort. 

My seeds are nasturtium, Mignionette Coronella Secunda 
Lord Anson s peas Sweet pea and Major Convolvolus. Mag 
mistook a little about the Zoologicals there were 3 sea eagles 
instead of 2 no grand show of birds among the stuffed I noticed 
the following 

Sacred Ibis, Gulls, Stork, White owl, Spoonbill and a couple 
of stuffed monkeys not in a case As to living there were few 
birds there were however some cockeys canarys bul and 
Chaf-inches parrots and piping crow from New Holland as 
also a few doves Golden pheasants, common pheasants and 
foreign and common partridges. The east India people are 
silent for the present The Chinese are irruptious as the last 
accounts said there was a naval engagement. there are a 
good many men of war lying about Chili. I think they ought 
to say "We will lick you if we can" instead of "We will 

lick you " but they have said neither but I hope, they 
will make peace. Babsy sends you 60 kisses, and Meg or 
rather Peg with a wooden leg Kit Charles Baby s pap mum 
and Gander all send their loves to you. Goodbye dearest 
Sen and believe me your ever affectionate Brother, 



Friday, September \%>th [1840]. 

My dearest Arthur I was very glad to receive a letter 
from you, and to hear about your garden, etc. ; it makes me 
feel not quite so far from you all as I really am ; I very often 
think of what you are doing. . . . The outside of the house 
at Haveningham is so completely altered, I should not have 
known it for my dear old home. I have not seen the inside, 
for Mrs. Owen is too unwell to admit visitors ; I should like 
to see it. We must think often of the many mansions of our 
Heavenly Father s House, and, my darling, how happy it will 
be if we all meet there ; not one missing, of all our household 
here ; then we shall care no more what home we had in this 
world, than we care now what sort of cradle we were rocked 
in. So let us all press forward ! 

[In late summer 1840] 

FARNLEY LODGE, Friday, 2$th. 

My dearest Fenton I took the first opportunity to write 
to you. None of the seeds you mentioned are ripe but there 
are 3 seeds of Nasturtium ripe that pod of sweet pea of 
yours that we thought was nearly ripe is rotten Harry came 
to play with me on Sat. in the afternoon and both came in 

the even came here on thursday 2oth he is not 

a nice boy. he often swears. I am afraid I have lost my 

trap bat. goes to Mr. Kershaws school. Mr. Ker- 

shaw calls him a rum chap I can t say I like him I will give 
you what he swore to me the other day " Upon my honour 
Upon my soul I swear if the bible was here Id kiss it and 


swear " I was quite shocked at all he swore on Saturday I 
hope he wont do so again He does not play cricket by rule 
He bowled to me overhand when I was not ready without 
saying play hit my wicket and said I was out I told him I was 
not but would go out he said he had seen many bigger boys 
play so. ... Goodbye dear Fenton and believe me your 
most affecte te Brother ARTHUR HORT. 

(P. S. I am in a hurry as Miss Sharland is going to the 
Royall wellls and I must go after Her I wrote as well as I 

FROM THE SAME. [In Autumn 1840] 


Dearest Fenton . . . is a getting a little bit better. 

He used the other day nevertheless this expression By holy, 
Go to hell, The Devil take you and an ilnatured expression 
though it does no harm to me Woe betide you. I pretended 
to lick him the other day but did not really strike him but he 
pretended his nose bled however I knew it was only nonsense 
for I literally touched his nose with the back of my hand but 
pray do not say a word about what I tell you of him in your 
letters. He generally gets naughty and Miss Sharland says 
she will give him a dose of castor oil which soon sends him 
away All send their love I have nothing more to say so 
goodbye dearest Fenton and believe me your most affectionate 

P. S. I have sent you a long letter. 

FROM THE SAME. [In Autumn 1840] 

FARNLEY LODGE, Friday, 30^ [Oct. (?)]. 

Dearest Fenton I have lots to tell you. ... I begun a 
Greek Delectus to-day with Mr. Kershaw There are several 
great boxes of books come from poor old Leopardstown and 
also Grandmamma s poor old stools and chairs worked and 
My china French poodle dog like a lion and lamb, resting on 
a mound with red flowers, and some little affairs of yours. 
There are 5 Lectures being delivered at the Philosopic 
institution by Dr. Cantor. The first is "The intellectual 


faculties. Consciousness. Conception. Memory. Improvement 
of Memory. Imagination. Asbstraction. Judgement, Reason 
Lecture 2d Theory of sleep dreaming singular pophetic 
dream s. Fallacy of the senses. Apparitions, Ghosts. Lec 
ture 3d Sleep walking, sleep talking, Animal magnetism in 
Germany France and England various modes of Magnetism 
Effects produced Animal Magnetism as a curative Agent. 
These three have been delivered already. I will tell you the 
rest in my next letter. Goodbye Dearest Fenton and believe 
me your ever affec te brother ARTHUR HORT. 

P. S. Don t think I foraget Christmas. 

FARNLEY LODGE, Friday {November 1840 (?)]. 

My dearest Fenton. As it is now again Friday I write to 
you. I have got 3 of Aconitum Versicolor which I think is 
the same as Eranthis Hyemalis or Golden Ball I got them 
at Jessop s as Megg s had nothing of the sort, for 2d. a piece 
I had a good deal of difficulty in making the men understand 
what I wanted for they did not know it under the name of 
" Eranthis Hyemalis " but from their description I think it is 
the same. I have got \ of 100 of snowdrops for 9d. most of 
them being double, they are 35. a hundred. You tell me I 
said Vous voyera. then certainly it was a great mistake ! and 
I must have been asleep when I wrote it ! and I felt quite 
ashamed of myself for it you are right about your guess about 
" Fire-Glass-pictures " it is a rather larger one than yours in 
Dublin and has 12 slides. I will provide materials for "a 
Royal salute for the triumph over the air " I must tell you I 
have cut out and dug a bed in this ;:hape. . . . You must 
understand that it is larger than this and so also the other 
beds that I " Dutchly " drew in the last letter I am in Page 
3 in the Greek delectus it is not Valpy s but a Mr. Priest s. 
I intend to edge my bed with lattice work of little switches 
mind there is plenty of room between it and your garden. 




1841-1846. Age 13-18. 

HORT entered Rugby in October 1841 as a member 
of the Rev. Charles Anstey s house, the house to which 
Arthur Stanley had belonged. The names of H. J. S. 
Smith, W. H. Waddington, and J. B. Mayor are 
among the entries for the same half-year. G. G. Brad- 
ley s school career had just come to an end, and John 
Conington was the most distinguished boy in the Sixth 
Form. It appears that there was not room for Hort 
the term after his leaving Laleham, and that fever in 
the town of Rugby delayed the opening of the second 
* half of the year ; he was therefore at home from 
January to October 1841, for the last two months of 
which period he went as a day-boy to Cheltenham 
College together with his brother. At Rugby he was 
placed in the Upper Division of the Middle Fifth, his 
house-master s own form ; the form next above was 
taken by the Rev. G. E. L. Cotton, afterwards suc 
cessively Master of Marlborough College and Bishop of 
Calcutta ; next came the Twenty under Mr. Bonamy 
Price, and then the Sixth Form. Mr. Anstey s first 
report speaks of Hort as very promising but not strong 
in composition. He occupied at first a room with 

AGE 13 


W. J. and A. H. Bull and another boy, and in his 
second term moved into a study with his cousin 
Joscelyn Coghill. His home letters of this time have 
not been preserved, with the exception of those to his 
brother, which were doubtless specially treasured by 
the parents after Arthur s untimely death. The first 
of the following series is dated ten days after the 
writer s first arrival at Rugby. 


Arturo Hort impudentessimo 

Chel. Prop. Colleg. M. 

Castigari bene merenti 
Cujus nomen sine horrore nunquam vocabo. 

RUGBY, Lawrence Sheriff s Day [October 20, 1841]. 

Dearest Arthur You must not think that I have forgotten 
you, because I have not written to you before, but all my time 
here is split into so many shreds, here half an hour, there 
another half hour, that I cannot sit writing long. First, to 
answer your questions. As to the snowdrops, give me two, 
and the rest of you two apiece. As to the little round bed, 
enquire the price of the small spring tulips, which, with a few 
more winter aconites will, I think, be enough for it, but before 
you buy any tulips tell me the price of them. It will not be 
time for two or three weeks to plant either them or those 
which you have got already, of which you must tell me the 
number. For the large bed, I think it would be as well to 
get a chrysanthemum or two, if they are cheap ; if not it will 
do very well as it is. I think you had better take in the clove 
carnation. I wish you would enquire at Hodge s or any of 
the gardeners , whether it will be better to cut down the 
verbenas, and if so, do it, but I never heard of their being 
cut down when they are taken in, or at all events, when they 
are quite young plants and have no wood Divide the remain 
ing aconites and crocuses equally between you three. I wish 
you would buy about a quarter of a hundred ranunculuses. 
Well now for my affairs. I like Rugby extremely, better even 


than the C. P. C., 1 for it is not so monotonous. Old B 

is something like Judd, only a great deal taller. Young B 
is like young Bubb, only more fat-faced. Poles is the most 
extraordinary creature I ever saw, his face is like this. . . . 2 
His nose covers his mouth, but he is full of fun, and is always 
making puns. One of the boys told me the other day a riddle, 
the solution of which I must leave to you. " Why are you 
not at all a donkey s tail ? " We are not at all pedantic as you 
are for instead of your fine Latin " Adsum," we have our good 
old English " Here." My examination Extras (Mamma will 
tell you what they are) are Classics, 520 lines of the (Ed. 
Tyr. of Sophocles. 

Lines, last 2 odes of ist and whole of 2nd Book of Horace. 

Divinity. 14, 15, 16, and 17 chap, of Gospel of John by 

Mod. Lang. German. 4 pages of Schiller. 

Mathemat. 3 books of Euclid. 

History. The account of the 2nd Punic War in Keightley s 

I enclose you the list of our lessons ; written very badty, 
but I am hurried. Tell Lucy that I put in my own candles, 
and sweep my study myself. I have enclosed to you in 
Gran s letter a view of the school, for your scrap-book. 
Goodbye. Give my love to every one not forgetting Miss 
Sharland and believe me your ever affectionate brother, 


I should write more, if I had time, but I shall soon write 
again. Over the door of the chapel is written ev^pdvOrjv tirl 
rot? tlprjKoo-iv /xot Ets OIKOV Kvpiov 7ropeTxro//,e$a. I leave it 
to you to translate it. 


RUGBY, November ^rd, 1841. 

Dearest Arthur I wish you would write if you have time, 
if not dont. FENTON J. A. HORT. 

I am very cruel only to send you this scrap but I have no 
time, love to the girls, Miss G. and all. 

1 i.e. Cheltenham Proprietary College. 2 Drawing inserted. 

AGE 13 




RUGBY, November ivth, 1841. 

My dearest Arthur Most sorry am I to hear all the bad l 
news from Farnley Lodge, especially about poor Meg : you 
indeed are now in a sad condition but (here goes another 
quotation) "Trero/xat 8 eATrwrtv, OUT tvOdS opwv, OUT OTTIO-O)." 

Now if you are able to make that out, you will be able to 
do two lines of one of Sophocles s Choruses. By the bye, with 
regard to that other cwfrpdv&qv I was cheerful IT rots at those 
eiprjKoa-w saying pot to me, or as our translation has it, " I was 
glad when they said unto me," etc. The answer to the riddle 
is not a very polite one, but I must give it : " because you are 
no end of an ass." 

I wish you would answer me the questions that I asked 
about the prices of roots, etc., in a former letter, as it is now 
full time to plant them. We have now hard frosts here, but 
as you may suppose, no ice yet. . . . I remain your most 
affectionate brother FENTON J. A. HORT. 

H. Anstey has a little Electrical machine which he made 
himself, and I intend to make one like it in the Holidays. It 
is a Cylinder one made with an immense bottle. 


RUGBY, Satdy, November i$th t 1841. 

My dearest Brother I was very glad to get a letter from 
you, though sorry to hear such a bad account of all at home, 
but I hope the next account will be better. I amuse myself 
a good deal with young Anstey s Electrical machine, and I 
hope with but very little trouble to make one or two, when I 
get home. I enclose you some wax spun on paper by means 
of it. If I had the money, I would buy a Galvanic battery, 
for they are only 25. 6d, but I have not, but I hope to do so 
at some future time. . . . Your translation is very fair : more 
freely " And I am flying on the wings of hope, looking neither 
close to me nor backwards." It is an expression of hope, that 

1 Scarlet fever at home. 


one is raised on the air by it, and one does not regard either 
the past or the present, but only looks forward to the future. 
About the praepostors you know each boy has his particular 
place in the form, and by losing two places, I mean that the 
two boys below him are put above him, which among boys of 
17 or 1 8 is a very great disgrace. I must now give you 
some account of the way of doing marks in our form. 
There are 35 boys in the form (in one of the forms there 
are 58 ! !) and you know it would be impossible to give 
them all a piece to construe in the same lesson, so Mr. 
Anstey calls up as many as he can indiscriminately : the 
highest mark that can be got for a lesson is 40, and those 
who are not called up get the average 20. Now by these 
marks I have been called up 33 times and my marks are 
. . . altogether 1158. This does not include marks for 
exercises, or * vulguses for which I generally get much less. 
The highest mark for copies is 100, but the marks for them 
are not given out yet. I do not think I have anything more 
to say, except to ask you not to forget to write as often as you 
can, now that you have plenty of spare time. Give my 
kindest love to every one in the house, and believe me to be, 
dearest Arthur, your most affectionate brother, 


P.S. I should have plenty to tell you, if I knew where to 
begin, therefore I wish you would ask me some questions. 


RUGBY, Wednesday, November i*jth [1841]. 
My dearest Arthur I got your letter yesterday, but did 
not write, until to-day s afternoon s post, in hopes of finding 
intelligence from Cheltenham, but found none. I wish you 
would ask Mamma to send me every day a letter on a telegraph 
Newspaper, and I hope to have better news to hear. I have 
altogether including composition (for which I have 409) 
2657 marks leaving me head of the form, where I now am, 
safe and sound. Tommy, viz. Dr. Arnold, told me and 
Smith who is second that he would have * put us out, viz. 
promoted us to the 5th form, but it is so near the end of the 

AGE 13 RUGBY 23 

half, and there would be the bother of the double examinations, 
but if I pass a good examination, which I hope to do, I shall 
still have a good chance of being put out at the end of the 
half. I have taken up all the extras. I have got notes on 
the (Edipus Tyrannus, and I find them of great use to me. 
The frost has been very hard for some days, and I suppose 
there will be skating to-morrow. . . . 

MTT r 


RUGBY, November 22nd, 1841. 

My dearest Arthur I should have written before, but I 
had nothing to say, however I do not like to delay any longer ; 
I am delighted to hear that Papa is so much better, and I 
hope Mamma is so too. . . . 

I have bought several things for making the Electrical 
machine : a bottle for the cylinder, bars of glass, and different 
drugs required for making it, several of which I should find 
difficult and dearer to get at Cheltenham. 1 I do not think I 
have anything more to say, but to give my best love and 
wishes to all, and believe me your most affectionate brother, 


Write soon, and tell me about the roots and bulbs. 


RUGBY, Satiirday, November 27^, 1841. 

My dearest Arthur As I have not written this week, I 
did not like to let Saturday night pass without writing you a 
few lines, though I am rather pressed for time, as I am more 
backward with my extras than I could wish to be : however 
I hope to know them all in time : I know three already ; 
Classics, Lines, and History, and I know part of my Divinity 
and German, but I have not looked at my Mathematics. 
The Examination began on Wednesday, and I like it very 
well ; most of the questions have been very easy : I write 

1 This home-made battery is still extant, and was the delight of a 
second generation of boys. 


down in a book all the questions and my answers to them, 
as I thought Papa might perhaps like to see them. The 
Examination for Extras will begin, some say on Wednesday, 
some on Friday, but I shall be prepared for Wednesday. 
Stills are now the mania here, and a great many of the 
boys have them, but very simple ones being merely a retort 
and receiver mounted on a stand, with a spirit-lamp. Tell 
Papa that I have taken pains to follow his advice as to writing 
the answers at the examination. Your snuff-box story I have 
often heard before. With regard to the roots, I told you 
about them in a letter about 6 weeks ago, and if you can 
find it, all well and good, but if not, never mind getting any 
more, as I do not remember them. . . . 

I get confused with your verses so I will answer these of 
yours, and another time I will tell you at once, and not leave 
you to correct them, as it creates a great deal of confusion. 
Give my best love to all, and fervent hopes and prayers that 
all the invalids may be restored to health and spirits, and 
believe me your affectionate brother, 


I wish you would always write your verses on a long 
separate piece of paper, as you have done now, with the 
quantities marked^ as I often have a great deal of trouble in 
deciphering them. 


RUGBY, Sattirday [November 1841 (?)]. 

My dearest Arthur I write this to show you a sympathetic 
ink which Joscelyn and I made. I have bought a couple of 
pair of quoits, which are a very good amusement. Joscelyn 
is going to set up his electrotype. Give my love to all and 
believe me your affectionate brother, 


If you want any Prussian Blue, I will send you some I 
made myself. 

Dissolve the enclosed in a tablespoonful of water, dip a 
clean paint brush in the solution and pass it over the paper, 
when the writing will appear. 

AGE 13 


The above letters and the next series are given 
almost entire, as they are the only ones which remain 
to represent the interesting period from 1841 to 1845, 
when the writer was thirteen to seventeen years old ; the 
next glimpse we get of him in his own letters after 
February 1842 is as a Sixth Form boy. In December 
1841, near the end of Fenton s first half-year at 
Rugby, his whole family were down with scarlet fever, 
and his little sister, Louisa Josephine, the * Babsy of 
the letters, died of it 


, 1 January $rd, 1842. 

My dearest Arthur I cannot open better than by wishing 
all our dear ones many happy new years. Alas ! there is 
one less than there was last New Year s Day. How mindful 
should we be that in the midst of life, we are in death. But 
I will no longer yield to these painful though profitable reflec 
tions. I am very glad to hear that you are all so much 
better, and I hope you will be able to answer my letter. I 
am very happy here, though still I wish to be again among 
you all. We danced in the New Year on Friday night. . . . 
Bath has not such nice walks as Cheltenham. You may tell 
Miss Sharland that my opinion of the far-famed Milsom St. 
is that it is a common short street, with a few plate-glass 
windows, and that this is the handsomest and most fashion 
able city in England ! ! Piccadilly is the model of the real 
Piccadilly 10,000 times Piccaninified. The Abbey Church 
and the Royal Crescent, and perhaps Pulteney St. are the 
only things worth wasting one s stare on in the whole place. 
I must not grumble at the continual sloppiness of the streets, 
for it is certainly a fact that there can be no bath without 
water. It is certainly, Caernarvon excepted, the least (instead 
of, as it is said, the most) elegant town I ever saw, and its 

1 He was at Bath for the Christmas holidays, to be out of the way of 


hills are worse than Boulogne a great deal. I am now making 
my Electrical Machine, and I have nearly finished it, but you 
may tell Papa that I have not forgotten my lessons. Pray 
give mine and Miss Curtis s kindest love to all of you in 
Cheltenham, and elsewhere, and accept the same from your 
most affectionate brother, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

P.S. Here is a conundrum for you of my own making. 
" Why is a man who is conquered like an article of ladies 


BATH, February ^rd, 1842. 

My dearest Arthur I received your letter on Sunday. 
Before I say anything more, I must wish Margaret many 
happy returns of the 2nd. I finished my electrical machine 
yesterday, but as I was cleaning it, some of the cement broke : 
to-morrow, however, I shall probably set it to rights. ... I went 
the other day to see Wombwell s Menagerie. There is a very 
clever Elephant. When his Keeper said to him, " Supposing 
you and I were travelling together in a foreign country, and I 
were to be imprisoned in a castle, what would you do ? " the 
elephant put up his trunk and unbarred the top door of his 
cage. He then said, "Supposing you wanted to pay your 
addresses to a young lady, what would you do ? " the elephant 
took off the man s hat. He then begged one of the company 
to lend him a piece of silver money, the keeper then put it 
on the top bar, and told the elephant to give it to him, he did 
so, he told him to lay it on the ground, he did so, he told 
him to take it up again, and give it to the owner, he did so, 
he told him to thank the gentleman, who was so kind as to 
lend it to him, he gave a short grunt. He then told him to 
show what a nice foot he had for a silk stocking ; he lifted up 
his great paw, he told him to kneel down and thank the com 
pany for looking at him, he did so and gave a grunt. This 
elephant, whenever he wants more food, or to have his cage 
cleaned out, rings a bell. The keeper also goes in among two 
lions, a black tiger or jaguar, and six or seven leopards, plays 
with them, kisses them, makes them all jump through a hoop, 
which he holds up in the air, puts his head into the Lion s 

AGE 13 RUGBY 27 

mouth, and makes the leopards jump up on high shelves. 
There are also, a Rhinoceros, Arni Bull, a Giraffe, Hyaenas, 
laughing Hysenas, Racoons, Ichneumons, Coatimondis, Owlets, 
Marmosettes, Monkeys, Lions, Tigers, panthers, Leopards, 
Wolves, bears, Pelicans, Emus, Parrots, Macaws, Love Birds, 
Boa Constrictors, an Armadillo, and many other animals 
which I do not now remember. Aunt has given me The 
Boy s Own Book, which contains a great many games, Leger 
demain, Puzzles, Riddles, Chemistry, etc. I will now give 
you some Riddles. . . . 

If you cannot guess them, ask Mamma to try. Give my 
kindest love to all at Farnley Lodge, and believe me your 
most affectionate brother, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

The two brothers saw little more of each other. In 
March 1842 Arthur was taken very ill with measles, 
and Fenton was fetched home from Rugby ; he also 
fell a victim, but recovered in due course. Arthur was 
also thought to be recovering, and the two boys had a 
few last happy days together, till Fenton s quarantine 
was over and he could go back to school. Three 
weeks after his return to Rugby he was recalled 
for his brother s funeral; on 25th May he left home 
again for school, desolated with a grief which, young as 
he was, had made a permanent mark on him. 

This loss (at the age of ten) of a child of such rare 
promise and such beauty of character made, in fact, a 
crisis in the family history ; the mother s whole sub 
sequent life was overshadowed by it, and in the brother s 
memory it remained always a subject almost too sacred 
to be mentioned. At first he was completely stunned, 
and it was long before his naturally sunny disposition 
recovered its brightness. The loss of almost all record 
of this time is the more to be regretted since in home 
letters the effects on mind and character of this first 
great sorrow must certainly have appeared. 


On 1 2th June of this same year Dr. Arnold died. 
The news of this catastrophe was another staggering 
blow to the sensitive lad ; he never forgot the feeling as 
of an altered world with which the wholly unexpected 
news overwhelmed him during a holiday at the sea 
side ; the anniversary is marked in red ink in his diary 
of five years later date. He can never have seen much 
of the Doctor/ but his personality profoundly impressed 
him from the first ; he used to recall long after how he 
longed as a small boy for the * fearful joy of being 
noticed or spoken to by Arnold ; and letters still 
extant from Arnold to Mr. Fenton Hort show the 
interest which he took in his progress even in his first 

He spent some time in the Twenty, in which boys 
were obliged to stay till they were of age to be pro 
moted into the Sixth. Of Mr. Bonamy Price s teaching 
my father always spoke with enthusiasm ; he regarded 
him as the man who, at school at all events, had taught 
him more than any one else : " To him," he said in 1871, 
" I owe all scholarship and New Testament criticism." 
Mr. Bonamy Price in his turn, after an interval of more 
than forty years, remembered him as the brightest 
pupil whom he had ever had, and delighted to recall 
the boy s keen eyes, the thoroughness of all his work, 
and his eagerness in the pursuit of knowledge. A 
school contemporary remembers how he sat at the 
end of a row, and snapped up all the questions as 
they came round. He is said to have astonished his 
schoolfellows by the regularity with which he obtained 
four First Classes in different subjects. His letters to 
his father show the variety of his intellectual interests ; 
he seems to have never pursued one subject of the 
school course to the exclusion of others, and in his 



private reading he was omnivorous. The passion for 
knowledge, which was noted in the man, had taken 
hold of the boy. At this age also had begun the 
close observation of outward circumstances which 
was to the end so characteristic of him. The diaries 
which recommence in 1845, after a break of two and 
a half years, caused perhaps by his brother s death, 
record the weather for every day, and the texts of all 
sermons, besides details of school debates, prizes, and 
the like. This record of weather and texts he never gave 
up ; in 1 846 he began to note plants observed in the 
course of walks, and in many later diaries botanical 
notes from the principal part of the entries. 

Having risen to a high position in the school when 
he was young for his place, and still younger, it is said, 
in appearance, he had considerable difficulty in main 
taining his authority in his house ; there was doubtless 
a rather rough element in it, and his authority was 
not supported by athletic distinction, a deficiency which 
he always regretted. In his early struggles, when he 
first entered the Sixth Form in 1844, ne received warm 
encouragement from the new headmaster, Dr. Tait, 
who, besides recognising his ability and industry, spoke 
of him at the age of sixteen as having "a thought- 
fulness of character from which the best fruit may 
by God s blessing be expected " ; and a year later he 
predicts that " he will turn out a thoughtful and very 
valuable man." 

Though never distinguished in athletics, he played 
football with the same vigour with which he attacked 
his work, and he not only played but watched the 
school games with close interest. He took part in 
drawing up a code of rules for the famous game, the 
description of whose early stages in Tom Brown 


amazes the modern * Rugby football player ; and he 
was very proud of his cap/ his one athletic decoration. 
In school politics he took a courageous and independent 
line. On one occasion he, along with the head of the 
school and others, was censured by a majority of Sixth 
Form * levee/ on what grounds does not appear, but he 
was proud of the vote, as the contest was between 
" public and constitutional spirit and private feeling and 
love of popularity." The strife seems to have been 
appeased by Dr. Tait s intervention. 

The Rev. North Finder, one of Hort s few surviv 
ing Rugby contemporaries, has kindly contributed the 
following recollections of school-days : 

I could have wished that I had more reminiscences to 
supply of Hort s school-days at Rugby; but, owing to my 
having been in another House, my intimacy with him was com 
paratively slight, and confined principally to being associated 
with him in the two Upper Forms of the school. 

In his case certainly the boy was father of the man. 
Across the distance of nearly half a century I can call to mind 
the somewhat awkward figure and resolute earnest face with 
the blue eyes, bushy eyebrows, and black straight hair, as 
he might be seen rushing with rapid impetuous steps across 
the close just in time to anticipate the shutting of the Big-School 

He was nearly always at the top of whatever Form he 
happened to be in. In the Twenty Bonamy Price would usually 
refer to Hort for what no one else could answer. His width 
and thoroughness of knowledge, far beyond the usual level of 
even clever boys, his indefatigable industry, his quickness and 
precision of mind not at the same time without a certain 
awkwardness of expression foreshadowed in those early 
years the powers, which later he was to display in a larger 
field. He was not a boy of many friends, but those he had 
felt a deep and admiring attachment toward him. There was 
a natural heartiness and sincerity, a rugged simplicity and 
honesty, that could not fail to attract those who were brought 

AGE 17 RUGBY 31 

into close relations with him. Hort did not shake your hand ; 
he wrung it, throwing into his grasp all the warmth of an 
affectionate heart. He was no great hand at games, less 
thought of then than now. Yet I seem to remember his wild 
rushes at Football (especially in the Sixth Match v. the School), 
plunging into the thick of the struggle, fearless of danger, eager 
for achievement, and bent on doing his best for the honour 
of the Praepostors side. It was the germ of the same pluck 
and determination manifesting itself in a Rugby * scrimmage 
which succeeded later in achieving some of the most difficult 
ascents in the Alps. We took our degrees in the same year 
(1850) he at Trinity Cambridge, and myself at Trinity 
Oxford; and for many years we never met. Examining at 
Harrow long afterwards brought us once more together in 
pleasant intercourse, which made me feel how much of the 
freshness, simplicity, and warm-heartedness of the boy remained 
side by side with all the learning and experience of the man. 

The following letters give evidence of Hort s various 
efforts for the good of his house. That of Easter Day 
1 846, marked Dies Mirabilis in the diary of this 
year, reveals the earnest spiritual life with which 
incessant intellectual activity seems at no period to 
have interfered. His own simplicity and sincerity shine 
through phrases which are to some extent those of the 
religious school in whose traditions he was brought up, 
and in whose language it was then natural for him to 
express his deepest thoughts. 


RUGBY, September *jth, 1845. 

My dearest Papa I fear this letter must be very one-sided, 
for you have left me nothing to answer or remark on of home 
or Cheltenham news. . . . Our football rules are to be out 
this week, and if the book is as small as I hear, I will send 
you a copy by post. I believe we are the only school who 
make it a scientific game with an intricate code of laws. 


We have filled up the two vacancies in the editorship of the 
Miscellany. Shirley is all that could be wished ; Byrne I am not 
so satisfied with, as he is a sad Young Englander, . . . but we 
must hope for the best. Our debating Society goes on most 
flourishingly ; we admitted and blackballed yesterday week a 
very large number of new applicants, and yesterday we passed 
a rule making a small half-yearly and also entrance subscrip 
tion to defray the expense of printing the Minutes half-yearly. 
Yesterday we abolished Botany Bay, Port Jackson, Tasmania, 
Norfolk Island et hoc genus omne ; and next Saturday we de 
cide as to O. Cromwell s right to a statty in Westminster 
Abbey ! How grand we are ! Deny it, who can ! As you may 
perhaps like to hear what books we have got for our Library, I 
may as well tell you. (Novels and Tales) DTsraeli s Sybil, 
Marryatt s Midshipman Easy, Pickwick, Hawkston, Fougie s 
Seasons. (Travels, etc.) Crescent and Cross, Wolffs Bokhara, 
Pridden s Australia. (History, etc.) Carlyle s History of the 
French Revolution, Brougham s Statesmen of the time of George 
III., vol. iii. ; Brougham s Lives of Men of Science and Letters 
of the time of George III., vol. i. (Poetry) Spenser s Poems, 
Taylor s Plays, besides Periodicals ; so that we have a pretty 
good set for our money. Our Choir in Chapel has been removed 
from the Gallery to the Middle of the Body, and increased to 
sixteen, eight on each side, so that we have in effect the old 
system of Versicles and Responses, and the effect is much 


RUGBY, September 2.\st, 1845. 

I am writing in some of the heaviest rain I ever saw, with 
a great stream pouring in front of my window from an over 
flowing water-pipe, and some of the studies presenting Baths 
for the Poor (Occupants) gratis, though fortunately I am not 
favored with that honour. ... I have just finished a most 
interesting volume of Brougham s Lives of Men of Letters and 
Science in the time of George III., with lives of Voltaire, Rous 
seau, Hume, Robertson ; and 2ndly, Black, Cavendish, Sir 
H. Davy, Watt (steam-engine man), Priestley, and Simson, 
the mathematician. As might be expected, he is rather too 

AGE 17 



partial to Voltaire and Hume, but I have seldom read so 
delightful a biography, or one that gave so favorable an im 
pression of both author and subject, as that of Dr. Robertson. 
The accounts too of the discoveries by the Chemists, such as 
that of the various gases and the composition of the Alkalies, 
are very interesting. We have had two afternoons of the 
Sixth Match, Monday and yesterday, but we have maintained 
the fight so gloriously that neither side have gained any ad 
vantage, and another ineffectual day will make it a drawn 
game, whereas last year we were beaten in two days. The 
Red Cross Knight has fared well from the perilous encounters, 
but is rather lame from a rub by his own greaves. A propos 
to Red Cross Knights, I have plunged into the Faery Queene, 
but I am afraid it will be rather wading work, for Clarence 
found a great difference between drinking, and being drowned 

Ensey, tho it was the same liquor in each case. 
RUGBY, February 22nd, 1846. 
I see by the Journal that even poor Cheltenham was 
ed with all the horrors of a Protection Meeting, or 
demonstration in favor of the Marquis of Worcester. What 
a noble sight it must have been the other day at the Dorset 
shire Hustings ! In consequence of this question I have been 
more of a politician this last fortnight than I have ever been 
here before, having read the chief speeches in almost every 
Debate. We have had the question discussed in our Debating 
Society ; it was adjourned yesterday week, after three or four 
(for us) long speeches, to yesterday, when, in a house of about 
thirty-five, with, I think, only five on the Whig benches, a 
* glorious majority of one was obtained for protection ; 
several who had intended a week ago to speak for protection 
having been brought to the other side by Sir Robert s power 
ful speech on Monday. It was very amusing to see how I 
was sarcasticated upon by both sides, because I told them that 
neither they nor I were capable, from want of experience and 
study of the questions, to form an individual opinion on the 
expediency and practical working of a commercial measure. 



RUGBY, Easter Sunday, April \, 1846. 

My dearest Father and Mother This is, I believe, the 
first time that I have ever addressed either both of you 
together at all or each of you separately by these names ; 
but the occasion of my present letter is sufficient explanation 
of my using these expressions, and not writing to either of you 
exclusively. The time draws near when, if I live so long, I 
am to quit school for ever, and thus the second period of my 
existence will soon be over ; and so my mind naturally reverts 
more strongly to what has never been altogether absent from 
my thoughts for full six years, and what both of you have 
frequently reminded me of, I mean the choice of a profession 
for life. I need scarcely say, I have not thought on the sub 
ject without much prayer, especially lately ; and my present 
object is to tell you my decision. I should mention that on 
Friday last I opened a sealed paper written by me at Tenby 
five years ago, containing reasons for the choice I then made, 
not however definitively, and I have ever since considered it 
as not the less an open question. My decision at that time 
was the same as now, and my reasons are substantially the 
same, though my opinions are in some respects modified; 
and then I balanced reason against reason, argument against 
argument ; now, while I allow argument its proper place, I 
trust and believe myself moved by an influence not my own. 
You will at once perceive that my choice is the Church. You 
will not, I am persuaded, charge me with any want of love or 
deference to you because I thus definitively make my choice 
without consulting you. You have shown your kindness and 
delicate forbearance (will you allow me to add, good sense ?) 
in leaving me to follow my judgment unbiassed, while at the 
same time there has been no need for my returning your con 
fidence by asking your opinions, for I have long seen, and 
given due weight to, what you thought on so important a sub 
ject ; and while I felt that you would not oppose my wish if I 
seemed bent on any other calling, I could not but pay atten 
tion to what I knew to be the desire of your hearts, to see me 
in the ministry, if a faithful servant of the Lord. Yet I 

AGE 17 



would not have you suppose that I am influenced merely by 
your known wishes ; such, I know, would not be your desire. 

The only other profession that would in the least degree 
suit me is the Law, and my distaste for it has been growing 
stronger every year, even when there was no corresponding 
increase of tendency towards the Church. I feel myself 
altogether unfit to be a lawyer ; I speak now of secular 
mental capabilities. But do not think that I choose the 
Church merely as the only practicable alternative ; far other 
wise. I cannot but see that the Church wants laborers 
more and more every year. Again, there is another reason 
connected with the last. This paper I have mentioned was 
written when our dear Arthur was alive. He, loving his 
Saviour as sincerely as he was warm in his affection to us, 
had already, if I mistake not, devoted himself in promise to 
His service. The same merciful Saviour thought fit to take 
him to Himself before he could fulfil his resolution, and I 
cannot but feel his removal an additional call on me to fill 
the place he had marked out for himself. O that I had but 
his fervency of love to Him who has spared me ! 

I have hitherto studiously confined myself to considerations 
and arguments. But if these were my only inducements I could 
not think myself justified in entering on so awful a responsi 
bility ; how, then, could I answer the question, " Do you 
trust that you are inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take 
upon you this office and ministration ? " Here, then deliber 
ately, yet with reverence I say, that I trust and believe that I 
am moved by the Holy Ghost. Nothing less should satisfy 
me. I believe that the strong and permanent inclination 
that I feel is of God. I know how miserably and imperfectly 
I serve Him. I fall into sin, more especially into coldness, 
indifference, and forgetfulness of Him through the day, yet in 
the midst of this repeatedly it seems as if He clutched hard at 
me, and I would not come ; and I cannot believe but that He 
is thus drawing me perseveringly towards His service. 

I had begun to write on Friday, when I was most annoyingly 
interrupted, having intended to ask your prayers to-day more 
especially, but your, I mean Mamma s, letter assures me of what 
I never indeed could have doubted, and I am not sorry now 


that I was thus compelled to put off writing till to-day. To 
day I have made my final resolution, and entreated God at 
His table to ratify it, and ever aid me to perform it ; and I 
cannot but think I have had some earnest of gracious assist 
ance. Till last night I never knew what depression was. I 
had no illness ; one or two things had happened to grieve me, 
but still they were comparatively slight ; but I never felt so 
thoroughly downcast about myself and all the world, or so 
bitter and serious a struggle within me. It tore me through 
and through, yet it was a great mercy and a special answer to 
prayer ; for having previously felt my own indifference and 
want of real sense of danger, I had entreated to be bruised 
and brought low to feel the burthen, that I might appreciate 
what deliverance might be, and it was granted ; consequently 
this morning I felt such as I had never felt before at the 
whole service and communion. I never till then had an 
adequate notion of the power and beauty of our Liturgy, and, 
on the other hand, of its inferiority to the Word of God. I 
gained some faint idea of what the Bible was ; I felt the 
glorious depth of the declaration, " Now is Christ risen from 
the dead, and become the first-fruits of them that slept," a 
passage which I had merely understood before. You will 
wonder, yet not more than I wonder myself, how I have been 
able thus to put on paper my inmost thoughts. The only 
explanation I can give myself and you is that I could but 
record with gratitude what appears to me so signal and 
gracious a token of encouragement in my resolution of to 
day. O that I be not deluding myself! One thing I can 
sincerely say : I wish to be the minister of the Lord ; but it 
makes me tremble to read a verse of St. Paul and St. Peter 
and then look at myself. 

I have now given you my reasons, as far as I can dis 
tinguish them, for everything would urge me on except the 
fear of unfitness. The fear itself is no harm, but quite the 
contrary \ O that the occasion of it may be removed. It 
only remains for me to beg your more particular and earnest 
prayers, for assuredly I shall need them more . . . pray 
especially for me that I may be given the spirit of prayer. 
Indifference is the form that the enemy s opposition generally 

AGE 17 



takes rather than direct temptation ; pray that I may be 
enabled to call down unceasingly special aid. I am afraid 
to be an hour without prayer, and yet how hardly do I find 
it ! May this day be the first of harvest to me, of my rising 
from a sleep truly called death, even as on this day Christ was 
gathered in as the first-fruits, rising from the actual death ! 

This letter is sadly incoherent and confused. My only 
excuse is that I have written it without previous arrangement ; 
I have said whatever rose to my mind. Perhaps you will 
like it the better for this. With love to the dear girls . . . 
I remain, ever your affectionate son, 




RUGBY, April igth, 1846. 
I really do not know how to answer Mamma s and your 

letters of Monday. I can only say that I thank you both very 
deeply and earnestly for them, and that for their own sakes as 
well as for the assurances of what scarcely needed assurance. 
Yet the more I read them, the more must I entreat you to 
pray and pray that I may myself worthily pray that you may 
not have taken too favourable a view. 

. . . Rugby has been honored to-day with the presence of 
three head-masters of great schools : ist, Dr. Tait of our own ; 
2nd, Charles Vaughan of Harrow; and 3rd, Conybeare (a 
Rugbeian) of the Liverpool Collegiate Institution. Arthur 
Stanley (Arnold s biographer) is also here, so that we have 
quite a constellation. ... It is not often that I look at our 
newspapers, but whenever I do I am disgusted with them : 
always some attack, either on the Established Church, or the 
Coercion Bill, or the thanksgivings for the Indian victories ; 
this last is a very fruitful theme for the declamations of these 
sentimentalists on Sir R. Inglis gunpowder Christianity, as 
they call it, or the idea of thanking a God of peace for 
successful slaughter. I cannot help thinking it a very fearful 
sign of these latter days, that godlessness has taken such a 
strange form ; it began with persecution open and undisguised, 
then came Popery, then (to omit minor forms) in the last 
century the philosophy of reason, not one perishing in the 


meantime, but each springing up by the side of the other. 
But now such is the spirit of the age, it is driven to take a new 
shape, the shape of Christianity and religion itself. For I 
cannot regard in any better light this widely-spread system of 
assuming the name of the Gospel to wrong principles. But I 
am running on about what I know little about. 


RUGBY, May yd, 1846. 

It appears by your letter that my gentle insinivations were 
not altogether without foundation, and that Mamma s cunning 
question about which tour I should prefer, just as if she was 
setting me a subject for a Latin essay, Quidnam iter prcestantius 
habendum sit> etc. etc., was, as I suspected, more practical than 
she was willing to allow. You shout all the way from Chelten 
ham to Rugby, to know my own views my own ideas. 
Poor I haven t got any ideas ; I am not like a flint or steel to 
strike out new sparks, but the black old burnt bit of tinder 
that enlarges and spreads the sparks of others : there s what 
you may call (you needn t if you don t choose) a fine simile. 
But the fact is that I should like any so well, that I don t 
know which I should like best. 

So like two feasts, whereat there s nought to pay, 
(pity that isn t the case with us), 

Fall unpropitious on the self-same day ; 
The anxious at each invitation views 
And ponders which to take, and which refuse ; 
From this or that to part he s sadly loth, 
And sighs to think he cannot dine at both. 

So sings the immortal Fusboz, and so sing I. ... The 
fact is that Italy, Greece, Egypt, and Palestine (all four con 
siderably too far off) are the only countries where I should 
feel myself at home and have full enjoyment. But don t 
suppose that I am disparaging those which may possibly be in 
reach : I only wish that you would choose as you think best 
and wisest, resting assured that I shall be perfectly satisfied 
with your decision, and be sure also that then I shall un 
doubtedly find out reasons why that is the best. 

AGE 1 8 



RUGBY, May $ist, 1846. 

Yesterday Mr. Fox, who was here at the school ten years 
ago, and has been for five years a missionary at Masulipatam 
in the Madras Presidency, addressed as many as chose to 
come to hear him. What he said was Christian, sensible, and 
well suited to his audience, and no flummery. He hopes to 
come again next half-year. 



RUGBY, September 13^, 1846. 

With reference to Dean Carus s question about 
issics and Mathematics, I believe your answer was the best. 
My own present idea (tho of course subject to subsequent 
modification) is to make Classics my strong point (following my 
inclination and powers), and Mathematics as much as practi 
cable. I confess I should like, if I might be so ambitious, to 
take more than a mere junior op. pass ; but I would rather stick 
to the lower parts of Mathematics, so as to get a thorough 
knowledge of all their principles and bearings, etc., than take 
a higher flight if solidity below were thereby to be sacrificed. 


RUGBY, September igth, 1846. 

. . . We are endeavouring to establish in this House Shak- 
sperian Readings ; they answer very well at some of the other 
Houses and are very popular. I look for great benefit from it 
to the House, hoping it will be a common bond to the different 
parts of the House, and likewise improve the literary taste 
generally in the House, giving them something better than 
Marryatt, Bulwer, and James. 


1846-1850. Age 18-22. 

HORT returned to Rugby for part of the second half- 
year of 1846, and in October went up to Trinity 
College, Cambridge. His first term was spent in 
lodgings. In January 1847 he moved into rooms 
in the New Court, on his tutor the Rev. W. H. 
Thompson s staircase. He did not become a scholar 
of the College till April 1849. In 1847 and the two 
following years he competed unsuccessfully for the 
University scholarships. In these competitions it is 
likely that width of reading counted for less than what 
is sometimes called pure scholarship ; that he was 
a very accurate scholar can hardly be doubted, but he 
was never brilliant in classical composition. The 
making of Greek and Latin verses, at all events, was 
never a favourite amusement with him, as it used to 
be with so many classical scholars. He read classics 
in his freshman s year with the Rev. F. Rendall (after 
wards a master at Harrow), and later with W. G. Clark. 
Mr. Rendall reported after one term s experience : 
" His knowledge of the classic authors is certainly 
far above the average ; but to this knowledge he 
appears to me to superadd much more important 


advantages in the clearness of thought and refinement 
of taste which his criticism and composition evince in 
a degree of maturity beyond his years." 

It was not to be expected that he would confine 
his attention to the regular course of Classics and 
Mathematics. Subsequent letters reveal not only the 
width of his interests as an undergraduate, but also 
how well prepared was his mind by nature and Rugby 
training to gather all the intellectual advantages of the 
University. He had undoubtedly learnt how to learn. 

A word is perhaps necessary to explain his religious 
development at this period. So far, as has been shown, 
he had been brought up in the doctrine of the Evan 
gelical school, which was especially influential at Chel 
tenham ; the effects of this training were doubtless 
modified in the atmosphere of Rugby. No school 
letters survive to tell how he was impressed, as 
impressed he must have been, by the religious teach 
ing of Arnold, and afterwards of Tait ; but the letter 
of Easter Day, 1 846, is sufficient evidence of the deep 
natural piety which had been fostered under these suc 
cessive influences. It was natural that at Cambridge he 
should seek out first the teachers of the Evangelical 
school, who then represented what was best in the 
religious life of the University. Chief of these was 
Dr. Carus, for whom he always retained a great regard. 
At a not much later period however he outgrew the 
Evangelical teaching, which he came to regard as 
1 sectarian/ but he did not throw himself into any 
opposite camp. It would be a great mistake to sup 
pose that he in any sense cast off what he had learnt 
in early years ; all that was best in those first lessons 
had become part and parcel of himself. Before long 
he was to come under other influences, especially that 


of F. D. Maurice ; but, without anticipating, it seems 
well to note here two very important facts in the history 
of a mind singularly receptive, yet singularly inde 
pendent : that there was at no time any decided break 
in the continuity of his religious convictions (one 
hardly likes to call them opinions), and that he was 
even from the first 

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri. 

Combined with unbounded gratitude and devotion to 
those masters under whose influence he successively 
came was an absolute independence of judgment. The 
extent of his indebtedness to Arnold was certainly 
far greater than it is possible now to estimate precisely. 
In undergraduate days, if not before, he came under the 
spell of Coleridge. It is significant that in 1847 he 
records in his diary the dates of Coleridge s birth and 
death. Nor was this a passing boyish enthusiasm ; the 
poet -philosopher s works became the subject of deep 
and careful study, the fruit of which appears in the 
exhaustive monograph published in the volume of 
Cambridge Essays of 1856. Possibly what first 
attracted him to Coleridge was the breadth of intel 
lectual interest which in him went along with spiritual 
earnestness. From Coleridge to Maurice the passage 
was natural. Maurice s teaching was the most powerful 
element in his religious development, satisfying many a 
want which had hitherto distressed him ; yet, as indi 
cated above, it would be a mistake to call him without 
qualification a disciple of Maurice. Before he had made 
acquaintance with his writings, he had been inevitably 
affected by the forces of the Oxford Movement, though 
he was throughout alive to the weaknesses as well as 
the strength of its leaders. In the loyalty of his 


churchmanship one can trace perhaps the most certain 
indications of what he derived from this source. For 
he was emphatically a churchman ; he loved greatly the 
services of the Church of England, and cared much for 
a reverent observance of all matters of detail in wor 
ship. Such things he regarded as of secondary 
importance, but never with indifference. For instance, 
his devotional, no less than his artistic, feeling was 
outraged by the bare and ugly churches which were 
far commoner forty years ago than now. In these 
matters, as in those of higher importance, his fairness 
and openness of mind were conspicuous even in under 
graduate days. Yet and the reservation is extremely 
important he was no dispassionate eclectic, balancing 
opinions with the cool judgment which comes of 
deficient enthusiasm. The decision was with him 
no matter of merely intellectual interest. The main 
current of his religious thought was, as has been said, 
continuous ; but such changes as came in the course of 
growth were accompanied by anxious self-questionings 
which tore his whole being through and through. The 
intensity of his feeling was at least as remarkable as 
the balance of his judgment. Nothing was more 
foreign to him than the complacent judicial attitude 
commonly ascribed to Goethe, speaking of whom in 
connection with Coleridge he said : " There are other 
and better kinds of victory than those which issue in 
an imperial calm." l So again, in one of his maturest 
writings, he says : " Smooth ways of thought are like 
smooth ways of action ; truth is never reached or 
held fast without friction and grappling." 5 In fact, 

1 Essay on S. T. Coleridge in Cambridge Essays, 1856, p. 351. 
2 "The Way, the Truth, the Life," Hulsean Lectures for 1871 
(published 1893), p. 171. 


both early and late his object was not opinion, but 

The following letters all belong to his first term of 
residence at Cambridge : 


CAMBRIDGE, October 31^, 1846. 

My dearest Father I ought to have written last night, 
but the time slipped away as I was sitting at the Union till 
it was too late for the Post. You will see from this that I 
have joined the Union, which however, if I may judge by the 
impression anything you have said about it left on my mind, 
is very much altered since its Founder s time. We have 
a magnificent room, I am afraid to say how long, for Debates 
and reading-room ; also a smaller and snugger room, and, I 
believe, a smoking-room, and a really excellent Library of all 
subjects, which is a great resource. It is very convenient for 
me at present, the entrance being from the Hoop Yard, not 
grand or imposing certainly. Our first Debate for this term 
is to be on Tuesday. There is one alteration that struck me 
particularly from your account of the antient l feuds, viz. there 
are no fines for non-attendance at Debates. Romilly asked me 
to wine on Thursday. Professor Sedgwick was there, besides 
two or three old pupils of Romilly s who had come down for 
the day, and three or four undergraduates, chiefly, I think, 
of other colleges. Romilly talked and laughed and joked 
incessantly for every one else as well as himself. There was 
some interesting conversation about the new Planet ; but I 
could not make it out, nor can I remember it clearly. Some 
observer, I think here, thinks he has discovered a ring. It 
appears that Mr. Adams of St. John s had made his calcula 
tions in the spring, and sent them to Greenwich to Airy, the 
Astronomer-Royal ; but he paid no attention to them, and to 
his neglect Sedgwick attributed the loss of the honour to 
England of the discovery. He mentioned that in the summer 

1 For an explanation of this and some other peculiarities of spelling, 
see p. 55. 


he and some one else had seen Mr. Nep from the Observa 
tory here, but did not recognise him as the planet that they 
were looking for. 

On Sunday I went to St. Mary s to hear the Hulsean 
lecturer (Trench). It was the concluding lecture of the series, 
and therefore scarcely a fair sample. It was of course more 
intellectual than spiritual, the subject being (of the whole, 
which is in the press) " Christ the Desire of all Nations, or 
the Unconscious Prophecies of Heathendom," a noble subject, 
but most difficult to deal with well. His lecture was a sort 
of resume, cautioning against three errors ist, of regarding 
Heathendom as utterly devoid of all true light; 2nd, of 
exalting the dim light of Heathendom at the expense of 
Christianity ; and 3rd, of finding no matter for thought in the 
Heathen writers. He was very earnest, tho he had a pain 
ful delivery ; and considering its nature, it was a very beautiful 
lecture, giving here and there by chance expressions * windows 
into the man, which showed what a beautiful preacher he 
would be on a less directly intellectual subject. ... I forgot 
to mention that at Trinity Church in the morning I was 
fortunately a quarter of an hour early, and so obtained a seat ; 
plenty who came before the service had none, and a good 
many who came for the sermon could not get in, there not 
being even standing room anywhere within the walls or doors. 
. . . It is since you left that the Little Go has been 
instituted (officially The Previous Examination ). It takes 
place after a year and a half. . . . Thompson is our Classical 
Lecturer, and does it exceedingly well, shallowly for the shallow, 
deeply for the deep, though in the latter respect rather point 
ing to other resources than entering fully on them himself. 
... I have heard since I came up a noble act of Tait s. 
Byrne had worked very hard for the Exhibitions, and fully 
expected one, but came fifth ; and there was no broken 
one. On returning to Rugby we were surprised to see Byrne s 
name on the board for a broken one. Nobody whom I asked 
could tell me about it. It now turns out that Tait has given 
him an Exhibition for two years, i.e. 120, out of his own 
pocket, and had it put up as if he had gained it in the regular 



CAMBRIDGE, November $th, 1846. 

... I answered your last letter but one in a great hurry 
supernumerarily, and so did not examine all your questions ; 
among them I see the coats mentioned. I must have mis 
understood you on that point, for I got the frockcoat some 
time ago, and have been keeping my best l tails as dress, 
tho they are not first-rate for that purpose. Before I do any 
thing more, therefore, I want to know your wish. I should 
add that at the time I asked Law what he generally made 
evening coats of, and he said that of invisible green more than 
any other colour ; however, if you wish the blue, say so. Say 
also about the brass buttons, horresco referens. . . . 

Carus mentioned by the way that the King of Prussia has 
sent a gold medal to Archdeacon Hare with a letter of thanks 
for his noble vindication of Luther from the attacks of our own 
Tractarians, in a long note to his Mission of the Comforter, 
lately publisht, which said book Carus likewise highly recom 
mended. One other book he said every one should make it 
his business to read, the Homilies. You do not often see or 
hear anything of them now. 

I went on Thursday week to one of Mr. Wilson s Scottish 
Entertainments (the Nicht wi Burns man), as I was rather 
curious to hear him. His prose explanations were miserable, 
very like the showman at Wombwell s, and you couldn t help 
fancying that if you were to interrupt him, he would have to 
begin all over again ; and the jokes he was evidently tired of 
repeating to so many audiences. There was a good deal of 
affectation also in the way that he sang many of the songs. 
Most of them were rather poor, but " A Man s a Man for a 
that " was magnificent ; he almost did it and Burns justice, no 
easy matter. By the bye you made a mistake when you were 
here in not going into Trinity library to see Thorwaldsen s 
statue of Byron. He doesn t look very morantic in his 
dressing-gown, but, as well as I can judge, it is a fine statue ; 
the likeness is particularly good, tho rather favourable than 




CAMBRIDGE, November \2th, 1846. 

To make sure of my letter reaching you in good time, I 
write the hour after I have received yours. I had a treat on 
Monday night such as I am not likely often to have, and 1 
am sure you would have given something to have had : I 
heard from the lips of Prof. Challis and Mr. Adams the ac 
count of their discovery of Neptune. - told me that that 
night was the first meeting for this term of the Cambridge 
Philosophical Society, and asked me to go with him. . . . 
Mr. Adams explained in some degree the difficulties and 
peculiarities of his calculations, but they were all but wholly 
unintelligible to me. One curious thing I fished out, that the 
well-known theory of a certain rule in the relative distances of 
the planets from the sun as compared with that of the earth, 
is found false in Neptune s case. The rule was that, sup 
posing the distance of one planet from the sun to be x times 
as great as that of the earth from the sun, the distance of the 
next outer planet from the sun would be 2 (x- i) times that 
of the earth. For instance, Uranus is 1 9 times as distant ; 
and so they expected Neptune to be 2 (19-1), i.e. 
36, but he turns out to be (I think) only 33. There was 
then some discussion as to the respective honours of Adams 
and Leverrier; Adams said that he gave Leverrier the full 
credit of the discovery, but, as a matter of calculation, he 
claimed for himself the credit of prior and independent con 
jecture. Challis said the same, and merely claimed credit for 
himself on the score of having laboured most, having taken 
between 3000 and 4000 observations between the end of July 
and September. He, it seems, actually saw the planet before 
its discovery at Berlin, and had suspicions of its being the 
planet, but did not examine it. On coming home I sat down 
to write an account of what I had heard, but when I had 
written a good deal, was obliged to go to bed by the hour ; 
and unfortunately I totally forgot it till this afternoon ; now 
on trying to complete it I find my recollections very imper 
fect. . . . 

One word on the Union, etc. You are anxious that I 


should not devote to its studies too much time in preference 
to Classics and Mathematics ; these latter should undoubtedly 
have the pre-eminence, but I am sure you will allow that alone 
they would form but poor pabulum for the mind. Philology, 
cram, science, both natural and of abstract symbols, and 
Paley (ugh !) are by themselves all but useless ; they are 
rather instruments, but, if you have nothing to employ your 
instruments on, why keep them ? I should be the last in the 
world to join in the insane cry against them (which happily is 
now somewhat hushed), so strong a sense have I of their value ; 
only allow room for somewhat else, and depend upon it they 
will not suffer. Compare the edition of a Greek play by a mere 
philologer, however good, with one by a man who has read and 
thought something else, and you will see how, for the purposes 
of mere philology, superior the latter is, even with inferior 
scholarship. . . . 

I quite agree with what you say of Trench, but the blindness 
of the Achill Herald in accusing him of Popery made me say 
more than I intended. Trench might have learnt by the 
lines of one who is now, I fear, an Anglo-Catholic 

Sovereign masters of all hearts ! 

Know ye who hath set your parts ? 

He who gave you breath to sing, 

By whose strength ye sweep the string, 

He hath chosen you to lead 

His Hosannas here below : 

Mount and claim your glorious meed : 

Linger not with sin and woe. 1 

Here I have been again at my long quotations, but I don t 
think you ll cry because you have got it. ... Last night I 
went to St. Michael s to hear - . . . . Somehow I never 
like stars, least of all planets (TrAavr/Tcu) or wandering stars. 


CAMBRIDGE, December itfh, 1846. 

. . . Poor Dr. Mill has, I grieve to say, verified the ac 
counts of him. Having disposed the Sunday before of the 

1 Then follows a quotation of most of Keble s poem. 


rationalistic and semi -rationalistic theories, he yesterday de 
voted his whole sermon to attacking the Evangelistic ; he 
praised the truth of the central doctrine, but blamed its being 
taught exclusively, assuming that it is so (true to a certain 
extent, but the exception is not the rule). In fact his whole 
course lay in misrepresentation, confounding Evangelicalism 
with Methodism, which last is worse than Popery, as being 
more insidious. At the same time his own doctrines were the 
reverse of sound ; he advanced the sacraments in a strange, 
inconsistent way, denouncing strongly the opus operatum, and 
any idea of sacrifice in the Eucharist (quoting Heb. x. 12, 14), 
and yet attacking the only other alternative ; in fact, timidly 
bringing forward Baptismal Regeneration. He wound up by a 
far more justifiable denunciation of the Evangelical Alliance 
and Paean over its defeat. It is fair to add that he used no 
hard names, and, tho his doctrines were abominable, his whole 
tone inclined me favorably towards the man. 

I am much obliged to you for taking the girls to the 
sights without waiting for me, more especially Mad. Tussaud s, 
which is to me disgusting. Why do we shrink from an ourang- 
outang ? because the rezemblance is too great. Where the un- 
likeness of the accompaniments preponderates, we admire the 
art, as in a painting or statue ; but a wax figure is like a rosy- 
cheekt corpse in the attitude of a living man. 

In the Lent term of 1847 there was great excite 
ment in the University over the contested election for 
the Chancellorship. Hort s account of it in the follow 
ing three letters shows that he was by no means a 

CAMBRIDGE, Tuesday night [February 2^nf, 1847]. 

My dearest Father I open Kate s envelope to tell you 
that the affair of the Chancellorship is getting most serious. 
St. John s are going to work doubly ; they summon all their 
own men as a College question, and raise the cry of the Church. 
The Morning Post has to-day a leader in behalf of them of a 



very strange kind, insinuating that the Government are going 
to throw their weight into the scale of Prince Albert ; in short, 
high and low, from every hole and corner in the kingdom, 
Johnians and High Churchmen are being summoned up, and 
have been being summoned since two hours after the news ot 
our late Chancellor s death arrived. Prince Albert, as you 
will have seen, gave a sort of refusal, but I hear that it is 
contrary to etiquette for a royal personage to contest an 
election ; and his committee have determined to go to the 
Poll, so that he does not come forward as a candidate, but, if 
they are successful, they will offer it to him, and there is reason 
to believe he would accept it. This was exactly the course 
pursued in the case of the Duke of Gloucester. Lord Powis 
committee and friends include most of the Law Officers and 
many leading Churchmen ; the Prince s all the heads of houses 
but the Master of John s, President of Queen s, and Master of 
Clare Hall, and this last has only withdrawn because of the 
Prince s refusal. We have also almost, if not quite, all the 
Professors and leading men of the University, and, the papers 
say, four Cabinet Ministers, but who I don t know. But most 
of all Carus has publicly declared that the real movers of Lord 
Powis are the Tractarian party, who hope thereby to effect an 
entrance into Cambridge ; and I understand that he is can 
vassing and otherwise exerting himself most actively against 
Lord Powis. Now he is so very sober-minded, free from party 
spirit both in religious and other matters, and charitable, and 
unmeddling that it must be something real and considerable 
that would excite him thus. Under these circumstances every 
vote is of consequence, and the contest seems generally 
expected to be neck and neck. The Polling begins on 
Thursday, and ends at noon on Saturday. Your affectionate 
son, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

In great haste. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 26th, 1847. 

You will read a full account of what has taken place 
(as well as what has not) in the Times, tho I should 
observe that the latter ingredient will largely preponderate 

AGE 1 8 


over the former, i.e. the penny-a-liners have proved them 
selves penny -&-liars ; but I must give you some scraps of 
information. The story (I am not sure whether it is in the 
Times or some other paper) about the marching in procession 
and the banners, etc., is a pure fabrication from beginning 
to end. I was at the Senate House yesterday five minutes 
before the time, and found the Galleries crowded, but managed 
to squeeze myself a place. Punctually at ten the authorities 
arrived, and here a fable was dispelled. It is popularly 
believed that the Proctors books, which they carry about 
with a chain, are no books at all, but mere wood ; however, 
something was read out of one of them. All the ceremony 
described in the Papers may possibly have taken place, but I 
don t think it did. On the right hand on entering was Lord 
Powis table, on the left the Prince s. Every one of the 
A.M. s went up to one of these, and received a ticket on 
which he wrote his name and I don t know what else ; he 
then (i.e. as soon as he could) went up to the Vice s table, 
where sat the Proctors, Registrary, Scrutators, Bedells, etc., 
and handed his card to the Vice, who read it, showed it to 
one man to look out the name in the Calendar and make sure 
of all being right, and to two or three others to register, and 
then deposited it in one of the two slits in a huge box he 
had before him, one slit for each candidate, each time calling 
forth cheers and groans according to the slit he put it in. 
This was the whole business. Early in the day the body was 
crowded with A.M. s; one of the Bulldogs admitted a certain 
number at a time within the rails which separated the dais, 
and the rush each time was tremendous. It took some time 
each turn for three or four Bulldogs to shut down the bar ; 
they forced it down on the heads and backs of whoever was 
there. A.M. s were sprawling on the floor, having their hats 
smashed or holding them above their heads, and you may 
imagine the undergraduates were not silent. The bar, which 
was four inches thick, soon broke ; they brought in carpenters, 
but ultimately they made the passage much narrower, and 
crossed batons across it. The profound sensation at the 
arrival of the Ministers is a monstrous fiction ; nobody but 
the dons knew anything about it till hours afterwards. The 


only persons recognised, as far as I remember, were the 
Bishop of Norwich, Lord John Manners, and Lord Fitzwilliam ; 
this last came in his scarlet robe as D.C.L., and elicited great 
shouts of " Lobster ! " I hear his vote was refused (I don t 
know why), as was to-day that of the Provost of Eton. At 
first Lord Powis had a majority, then the Prince, then Lord 
Powis, and his steadily increased up to 84, and then 
slowly fell, till at nine last night the Prince had a majority 
of 17; he had about an hour ago (at four) one of between 
50 and 60. The Gallery noises have been tremendous; 
first of all the cries of " Cap, cap ! " or " Hat, hat ! " to who 
ever below retained either of those articles on his head, and 
the "Three cheers for Prince Albert " " for the Queen" 
"for Lord Powis" "for Lord Powis Committee" "for 
Lord Powis and Church Principles" "for the Vice-Chancellor" 
" for the Senior Proctor " " the Ladies " (of whom three 
or four from time to time came in), etc. etc., with, of course, 
groans and hisses to match. There were shouts for "Poll, 
Poll, state of the Poll ! " and then perhaps some patriotic don 
would write down the number and hold it up, and then a 
shout to hold it higher, and write it plainer, etc. etc. From 
eight to nine last night it was awful ; there were only a few 
poor candles on the three tables, so that the Gallery was 
almost in darkness. It was not, like the morning, a succession 
of shouts, but without break one loud, shrill, piercing screamo- 
howlo-whistlo-yell, and occasionally the notes of a bugle. At 
nine the Senior Proctor came forward to declare the state of 
the Poll, but he could not obtain silence, and was obliged to 
pronounce the words without being heard. I should have men 
tioned among the morning sounds whistles to denote Whewell, 
barkings for the Bulldogs (the insinuation of the penny -a- 
liar is a lie), grunts for the Johnians, and Growings for I don t 
know who. To-day there was a terrible uproar about three 
from two-thirds of the body of the house assuming at once 
their gowns and caps ; this was greeted with the most 
tremendous howlings and stampings, but it was no use, and 
half the Gallery finally assumed their caps. Both days papers 
and squibs of various sorts circulated below; one yesterday, 
I hear, described thus the merits of the two candidates : 


one had saved a mitre and the other invented a hat (i.e. the 
Albert hat, embalmed in Punch}. It ended with putting into 
the mouth of a Johnian the assertion of his determination 
"to go the whole hog for John." Another to-day was a 
tolerable parody of the Witches in Macbeth, a trio of P s 
forming the dialogue, " Powis, Puseyite, and Punch," which 
last personage has of course been unable to resist the oppor 
tunity of a cut at Royalty in any shape. 


CAMBRIDGE, March izth, 1847. 

. . . Everything is perfectly quiet here after the Election. 
One of the best things about it is that yesterday Punch had 
a caricatured version of the Address which Crick as Public 
Orator had to present to his Highness, which represented 
Crick as mitre-hunting. Now the best of the joke is that 
Crick is a Johnian and voted for Lord Powis. . . . Two, how 
ever, of Punch s jokes this week on the subject are good, 
tho most of his observations are abominable. He had 
before observed that Prince Albert, in consideration of his 
great knowledge of law, was expected soon to be admitted to 
Lincoln s Inn he now observes that there is no difficulty, 
for, since the Prince originally refused the Chancellorship 
from want of unanimity and has nevertheless now accepted 
it, he has eaten his terms. The other is that he is coming up 
to Trinity to reside, and has already entered the young 
Princes as Under-sizars. 

With the possible exception of a few schoolfellows, 
it does not seem that Hort had friends at Cambridge 
before he came up. One of his earliest and closest 
College friendships one which lasted to the very end 
of his life was with Mr. Gerald Blunt (now Rector of 
Chelsea) of Pembroke College, whose family were 
already intimate with the Horts at Cheltenham. 
Another early friend was Henry Mackenzie, who died 
young. At some time in his first year of residence he 


must have made the acquaintance of John Ellerton, an 
acquaintance which ripened into a lifelong intimacy. 
His name will perhaps be more prominent than any 
other in the following pages, as nearly all the letters 
on both sides were preserved ; to him he could always 
talk without reserve, and to him, whenever they were 
apart, he poured out on paper his thoughts on every 
subject grave and gay. Ellerton was President in 
1847 of the Addison Society, called at first the 
Cambridge Attic Society, an essay club of which Hort 
was a member. He also belonged to a Historical 
Society, and attended Sunday evening meetings at 
Dr. Carus rooms. He began before long to speak 
at the debates of the Union, of which Mr. H. C. E. 
Childers was President in the last term of I 847. The 
day of multifarious athletic amusements had not yet 
come. Hort s principal exercise was walking with 
Blunt and other friends ; tradition also tells of nocturnal 
perambulations in the cloisters of Nevill s Court, pro 
longed sometimes far into the night. In vacations the 
object of the walks was generally botany ; the diaries 
of this and other years are crowded with notices of 
plants collected or observed, and of botanising walks 
with C. C. Babington. In the Christmas vacation of 
1 847 he took a small pupil at Cheltenham, his only ex 
perience of this kind of work. 


CAMBRIDGE, April 29^, 1847. 

. . . When my Exhibition comes in I do not know, but I 
suppose it will be soon. Talking of the Exhibition reminds 
me that I sent in to-day a couple of Epigrams, more for the 
sake of having something of the sort to take an interest in, 
than any good likely to be gained. I made the recent dis- 



coveries of the perturbations of Uranus by Neptune, and 
Saturn by Uranus the subject, to exemplify the thesis udov- 
juevds re KOL w#wv, * Pushed and pushing, showing what a 
mistake it was to suppose that the stars went on quietly and 
civilly, each minding his own business. 

I am not going to carry on a controversy on the respective 
merits of / and ed. ... I do not clearly understand whether 
you set up Addison individually as an authority and standard 
in opposition to Hare and Thirlwall. I hope not. If you 
regard them as mere learned critics, you do them great 
injustice. Not only in learning, powers of mind, and critical 
acumen, but in elegance of diction and style, and sound 
practical good sense, is each of them worth a dozen Addisons. 
As you say familiar diction, perhaps you would concede 
their superiority in writings of a high didactic character, as 
Philosophy, Theology, or History ; but I would only refer you 
to Hare s Guesses at Truth for as elegant familiarities as 
are to be found anywhere. ... I by no means think it 
incumbent on all, who consider Hare s orthography best, to 
adopt it on that account in opposition to the general fashion, 
but simply wish to excuse those who have no objection to so 
doing. But if I am not very much mistaken, you will soon 
find orthography like everything else, getting reformed univer 
sally ; out of the 50,000 words of which our language consists, 
it is said that 50 only are pronounced as they are spelled; 
and people are beginning to find out what fools they have 
been in sticking to such absurdities so long. ... As to the 
character you give Hare, of that I know nothing ; I can only 
say that all his theological writings that I have read are more 
free from dogmatism than any of the present day, and more 
liberally minded. However, it so happens I know why you 
abuse him ; you let the cat out of the bag once before. He 
admired Ckristabtl* ! ! That is his crime. 


CAMBRIDGE, May i$th, 1847. 

. . . Last night at twenty minutes past eight, as I was 
going to take my letters to the post, when I got into the New 


Court, I saw some dozen or two of men rushing distractedly 
about in all directions, but mostly under the arch towards the 
river. ... I met a friend, who told me that the kitchens 
were on fire. I then looked and saw a slight smoke in that 
direction ; going into the Bishop s Hostel, it appeared much 
more formidable and very lurid. More men came rushing 
out and there was a shout for buckets. I attempted to get 
into NevilFs Court by the end of the arches nearest the Hostel, 
but the smoke was too strong. I saw there was plenty of 
work before us, so, while I had time I rushed upstairs and put 
on my old greatcoat ; by this time there was a good many 
men going about, and buckets carrying to and fro. I went 
into NevilTs Court by the nearer end of the arches, observing 
as I went through a bright red glare on the opposite windows, 
and when I got to the corner near the Library door and looked 
back, there was a good deal of flame mixed with the smoke. 
. . . There were great shouts to form a line, and I of 
course joined in. We had a double line, one side passing up 
the buckets filled from the river, the other passing them down 
again when emptied. And there were several other lines in 
the same way. ... At the river end of each stood several 
men in the water, filling the buckets. It was very hard work 
at one time, for they passed along very quick. We were a very 
expeditious line, for we were silent ; the series of common 
buckets, fire-buckets, slop-pails, water-cans, and everything 
that would hold water or wouldn t, went on pretty continu 
ously, only broken by some man occasionally seizing a water- 
can between his knees to wrench off the lid ; knuckles occa 
sionally suffered from the iron handles tumbling on them, 
when we caught hold of the bucket itself, for we had no time 
to be dainty, but snatched at any part of the utensil. The 
fire rapidly increased, and soon bright orange flames shot up 
terrifically above the roof, and seemed advancing westward ; 
but just then the first engine arrived amid loud cheering. 
Before long the gear was all ready, and Evans, one of our 
scholars, carried the first hose up a ladder placed against the 
outside of the butteries, and it told rapidly, the flames instant 
aneously decreasing. One engine after another arrived, till 
we had five. . . I worked two or three minutes at the 



engine, but the labour was tremendous, and I soon left 
off. ... I stayed there till near 12, and they were then 
examining the roof all along, the engines having ceased to 
play about three-quarters of an hour before. . . . Had the 
engines been five minutes later, it must have caught the first 
staircase in NevilPs Court, and from one end to the other, 
with the exception of the outer walls, is one mass [of] old oak, 
partitions and all ! ! with those massive broad staircases to pro 
duce a full draught and the wind setting that way. The New 
Court is fireproof, but my rooms abut on Nevill s Court. The 
Hall also must have caught, and the first beam of the Combina 
tion Room was just charred. They got the pictures out of it 
in a great hurry, and I hear damaged several by the corners 
of the frames of others. 


CAMBRIDGE, October 29^, 1847. 

... As to setting about Composition, I have some 
thoughts of writing for the College Prize Poem in Alcaics on 
the occupation of Ferrara, which will be something of interest. 
I do a little of routine as well as read some one or two books 
in Classics, besides the Phanissae for Christmas and the March 
Little-go, alias * Smalls, alias Previous Examination of 
Junior Sophs. Thus much for Classics, but, as I told you, 
my chief object during this term must be Mathematics, for I 
cannot like the plan which many Classical men pursue of 
almost entirely neglecting their Mathematics till the last few 
months before their Degree, when they cram up as much as 
they may want to pass their Junior or Senior Op. degree as 
the case may be ; but whatever benefit may be derived from 
Mathematics in the way of disciplining the mind, is thus 
almost entirely lost. Moreover I must, if I intend to get any 
more ist classes, conform in a great measure to the College 
Examinations ; and the approaching one at Christmas is about 
half Mathematics, two -sixths Metaphysics, and one -sixth 

Gray, the new Bishop of Cape Town (who, you may re 
member, preached a sermon at St. John s Church, Cheltenham, 


some weeks ago), is to preach at both Cams Churches on 
Sunday : Carus spoke of him in the highest terms on Sunday 


CAMBRIDGE, November i2tk, 1847. 

I fear I shall not be able to write you a long letter, for I 
shall have to be at the Union from after Chapel probably till 
ten, as the whole Sunday question is stirred de novo, and is 
become terribly complicated. . . . The validity of the meeting 
last term which closed the Union till three on Sundays is (I fear 
justly) impugned ; the law is, " No meeting of the Society shall 
be competent to make new laws, or to alter or suspend existing 
laws, unless the meeting shall consist of Forty Members." 
Now at the meeting in question there were confessedly above 
forty present during the greater part, if not the whole, of the 
discussion. How many were present at the division, nobody 
knows, but those who voted, as shown by the division return, 
were only thirty-seven. No counting out had taken place, and 
the question is whether under the circumstances forty voters 
were necessary; the laws do not say, but I must in honesty 
think that common sense and justice require it. ... 

I do not feel quite so sanguine as you do respecting the 
Bishop of Cape Town s reception at Cheltenham; I heard 
nothing that I could object to, but some of his expressions 
would somewhat startle the old walls of St. Mary s. 

I suspect from your words that you do not quite under 
stand what I said about my Mathematics. It is not a question 
of earnestness, or no earnestness about them, but simply 
it seems to me better to work out and well understand the 
principles and bearings of the fundamental sciences, than 
merely get up a string of cram propositions in the high 
subjects, without knowing the why and the wherefore of any 
thing. More generally, there are two extremes here, both 
very common, and, I think, equally pernicious : one of casting 
aside the Cambridge studies, merely reading enough for a 
degree, and indulging wholly in other literary pursuits; the 
other, of reading nothing but Classics and Mathematics in 
short, setting up millstones but grinding no corn in them ; and 



again it seems necessary to preserve the balance of College and 
University studies. It is almost Chapel time, so I must con 
clude. Kind love to all. 


CAMBRIDGE, November 26^/1, 1847. 
say about sacrificing a principle to a 

twhat you 
lity is all very true, provided there be nothing more 
than a technicality, a quibble, as in the case you mention ; but 
it was not so with us. . . . Would it be right to give a false 
interpretation because we disliked the immediate consequences 
of the true ? nay, more, should we assert, not as a matter of 

(rule for the future, but as a matter of opinion on existing words, 
that we believed the words of the law had meant one thing, 
while we really believed the opposite, merely because the 
consequences of speaking the truth might be dangerous and 
wrong ? Surely not : surely our opponents might say, " Is not 
your conduct merely a putting in practice of the maxims of 
doing evil that good may come, and of not keeping faith with 
heretics ? you tell us that it is for the sake of Christianity you 
wish to shut the Union on Sundays, and then in order to 
attain this end you have recourse to principles which are 
most opposed to Christianity. . . ." 

must be an ingenious man in his heterodoxy. A 

favourite hymn of C. A. s I have since discovered to be an 
accurate parody of a short love song of Byron s, but what the 
man could find in poor Shelley to transmogrify into a hymn 
to anything, is more than I can guess. That sort of Mahomet- 
anism-and-water is, I fear, very prevalent. 


SEGRAVE VILLA, CHELTENHAM, December 2oth, 1847. 
My dear Ellerton This may appear very early for me to 
write after my departure from Cambridge. . . . Verily every 
circumstance of every day, be it news of crime, or of heresy, or 
of sectarianism, or of aught else, convinces me more and more 
that the Church is the only center of all our hopes, that only 


by clinging fast to her, by submitting to her mild and lawful 
authority, by shaping our ways according to her indications, 
and above all by venerating and upholding with gratitude and 
love, and leading others to venerate, those Holy Sacraments, 
which no less than His Holy Word her Divine Head has 
entrusted to her keeping and administration, can we hope with 
any well-grounded cause for hope either to preserve our own 
souls and minds from the moral and intellectual seductions 
which swarm everywhere around, or to maintain among others 
the authority of God s truth and God s holy law amid the con 
flicting whirlpools of modern English society. 

What think you of the Jew debate ? For my own part, I 
have seen no really good speeches on our side. Lord John s 
was most valuable as repudiating the Warburtonian notion of 
the merely physical ends of a state ; I can almost forgive him 
his measure for that declaration. And then what a noble 
Christian speech Gladstone s is, fallacious though it be ! . . . 
I am glad that the attack on the King s supremacy is foiled, 
but I deeply grieve that it should be considered merely as a 
defeat and baffling of high Churchmen. 

The year 1848 was a stirring time for all thoughtful 
men. For Hort, as for many other minds, no doubt, 
it was a very critical period ; his letters reflect the 
excitement within, which was the natural consequence 
of the excitement all round him. And yet it is evident 
that he was never carried off his feet. While entering 
into almost fiery discussions on all the controversies of 
that seething year, he was also quietly pursuing his 
course at Cambridge, or walking and botanising in 
North Wales ; and there is something almost ludicrous 
about the intrusion of the Little-go in the year of 
revolutions. Apparently he wrote for the English 
prize poem on * Baldur, and he also competed for the 
Hulsean prize. In this year too he became a corre 
sponding member of the Botanical Society of London, 
and engaged in a good deal of correspondence on 



botanical subjects, especially on the differentiation of 
the species of the genera Rubi, Violcs, and Ulices ; in 
the pursuit of this hobby he was closely associated 
now, as always, with C. C. Babington. 

It is characteristic of his mind that he viewed all 
the movements of the time in connection with theology. 
Theology must be with him a living reality, and he was 
dissatisfied with all systems which did not seem to 
have a direct bearing on life. Hence he was led to 
seek firmer foundations than he could find in the 
Evangelical position ; with all the earnestness which 
inspired the teaching of the best of that school, he 
could not discover the religious philosophy which he 
desiderated. In this search for a definite locus standi 
he was attracted by the writings of F. D. Maurice. Here 
he found a religious teacher who seemed to bring the 
doctrines and sacraments of the Church into relation 
with the needs of individual and social life. In Maurice, 
moreover, there was not that distrust of the human reason 
which, so far as it characterised the anti-Liberalism 
of the Oxford Movement, made it impossible for 
Hort to be in complete sympathy with the leaders 
of that school. Maurice was still personally unknown 
to him, as were all the Maurician set of social reformers. 
The social and political history of this time is familiar 
enough for the allusions in the following letters to 
explain themselves ; the history, e.g., of the Hampden 
case has been fully told in Dean Stanley s Life ; in the 
biographies of Maurice and Kingsley an account is 
given of Politics for the People, a remarkable venture in 
journalism, which lived for three months in the summer 
of 1848. Though the controversies of the period have 
been described more than once, it has seemed worth 
while to give Hort s comments on passing events with 


considerable fulness, since, young as he was at the time, 
they show what effect was produced by these moving 
incidents on a mind singularly sane, yet withal enthusi 
astic. If his enthusiasm makes his language sound 
occasionally somewhat extravagant, it is to be remem 
bered that this was what he would himself have called 
the ( yeasty season of life ; and, if he did not on all 
questions take the view which seems most in accord 
with liberal principles, it is only a proof of the 
detachment from parties as parties which was at all 
times noticeable in him. Moreover in politics, and 
especially in ecclesiastical politics, the effect of the 
reaction from early influences was still powerful. 


CAMBRIDGE, January 6th, 1848. 

... On coming up here, I find you levanted, and so I 
am left in wretched solitude, for there is not a single man 
up whom I know at all intimately ; so pray come hither and 
read as ] you intended. Write for Baldur, 1 if you feel so 
inclined, or do anything of that sort, but do not be guilty of 
the horrible treachery of leaving me any longer without any 
other company than the excessively shadowy and question 
able shapes of Pindar, Thucydides, and Juvenal ; in short, 
I am vegetating, and, if you do not come to my aid, a 
vegetable I shall be all my days, without hope of becoming an 
animal, much less a * human. 

I am gone clean distracted about this miserable Hampden 
affair. The only persons who seem to have acted creditably 
are the Bishop of Oxford and Dean Merewether. What a 
magnificent letter his last was to Lord John (mistaken as I 
believe his opinion to be) ! and then what a gentlemanly, 
not to say Christian, answer he got written on Christmas 
Day ! . . . Hare s pamphlet seems to me to be quite a 
floorer for all those who babbled about Hampden s heresy 
1 The subject for the prize poem. 


(though the Record does not take notice of this passage, 
which he afterwards only slightly modifies : "... I would 
have implored the minister, on my knees, if it could have 
been of any avail, to recall what seemed to me an act of 
folly almost amounting to madness, of which I have never 
been able to learn the slightest explanation or defense "). It 
is delightful to read him after Hampden s wordy Protestantism 
or his opponents wordy bigotry of all sorts. I was delighted 
the other day by our little Evangelical curate telling me with 

a grin that had sent him a petition in favour of 

Hampden to sign, with his name attached in pencil along 
with some others. All the rest had put Yes opposite ; he 
put NO in large letters. How he must have astonished their 
weak minds ! I have plenty of things to say, as, for instance, 
about Tennyson s Princess^ which seems good, though absurd. 


CAMBRIDGE, January loM, 1848. 

. . . Hampden is to be confirmed to-morrow. I see 
Whately has been asked by his clergy for his opinion on the 
subject, which he will give in a day or two. The English 
Churchman has a vehement attack on Hare s pamphlet, saying 
they now know some one else to suspect, German theology, 
etc. etc. Still I feel pretty sure Hare will be the next bishop, 
from the way that Lord John spoke of him ; and there are 
not many fitter for it. 

The Princess is absurd, but I like its absurdity. It is not 
a high flight, but it is a glorious poem for all that ; it is anti- 
Mrs. - - and all Apostolesses of Feminine Regenera 
tion. It gives an account of an university of women (the 
Princess being the head), and the moral, an excellent one, 
shows that the rivalry of the sexes is absurd, that each has 
its own place, and each is necessary to the other. I will give 
you one exquisite line as a sample of its delicacy and beauty 

upon the sward 
She tapt her tiny silken-sandalled foot. 

I have no time for more. 



CAMBRIDGE, January igth, 1848. 

I have been anxiously expecting a note every morning to 
say that you were coming up at once ; but I will delay no 
longer to write, having far more to say than I shall have 
either memory to recall or time to commit to paper. First 
as to books, Sterling is out, but I do not feel at present 
inclined to spare a guinea for it ; it is in two foolscap 8vo 
vols., of Daniel-Lambert-obesity, and seems intensely inter 
esting. Macmillan says that it appears from the Life that 
Sterling was an ardent admirer of Strauss ! so that it is bold 
indeed of Hare to publish this Life just at the time when the 
English Churchman has been calling himself a Rationalist. 
But though I have not got Sterling s Remains, I have got his 
Poems, but have not yet read much of them. On reperusing 
Mirabeau, I have been still more struck than before by its 
extraordinary power and beauty, though I do not quite under 
stand it all. The Sainfs Tragedy with Maurice s preface is 
also out. I have read the preface, which is excellent, though 
the drift is rather odd, viz. to show what sort of a drama a 
clergyman of the present day ought to write. The production 
itself is a five-act drama, partly prose, partly verse ; its main 
object being an attack on some of the later Anglo-Catholics 
about celibacy and holy virginity. It is a difficult and 
delicate subject to deal with, but the interests of Christianity 
and of the nation require that the truth should be spoken out 
boldly, and Kingsley seems to have done so nobly (though I 
have not read the book itself). Its sum and substance, 
according to Maurice, is an exposition of the actual struggles 
of man between life and death, such as they really are, apart 
from all the accidents of circumstance and opinion. He 
has also dealt a manly blow at the central lie of Calvinism, 
viz. that man s natural state is diabolical ; in short, he seems 
a man quite after Maurice s own heart, and, it is to be hoped, 
will prove a valuable ally to him in the glorious war that he 
is waging against shams of all descriptions. Some one has 
written to the Examiner enclosing copies of a note to Carlyle 
requesting to know whether the resurrection of the new 



Letters was a merejeu d? esprit or a veritable fact, and a some 
what surly rejoinder from the Elucidator, asserting that 
whatever he put his name to was fact ; which settles the 
question. Query : How would this rule apply to Herr 
Teufelsdrockh of the Sartor Resartus? Macmillan has 
already sold nearly a hundred copies of The Princess, though 
so few men are up ! ! 

And now as to Hampden, where am I to begin, or where 
to end ? First with a good but singular piece of news : the 
Morning Herald has all of a sudden, without explanation, 
shifted sides, and came out yesterday with a strong anti- 
Hampden article. It stigmatises his appointment as " a most 
unprecedented and wicked proceeding " ; abuses Lord John 
heartily for insulting the Church; accuses Hampden of not 
caring for anything but his own aggrandisement ; of meanness 
and ingratitude in writing such a letter about the Bishop of 
Oxford, after his disinterested generosity on his behalf. . . . 
It also reminds us that we have to guard the interests " of the 
Church, not of Lord John Russell, but of Christ." It is 
gratifying to find that the judges have allowed Sir F. Kelly to 
take a rule nisi for a mandamus to His Grace the Archbishop 
to show cause why the three clerical objectors should not be 
heard in court against the Bishop Elect. His argument 
seemed to me peculiarly ingenious and good, that since the 
court of the Archbishop or his deputy was, as he proved, 
in all essential points a bonafide court, it was subject to the 
rules of courts, and consequently both parties had a right to 
be heard. I understand that the question comes on in the 
Queen s Bench on Saturday. I have not read Whately s 
lengthy defence of Lord John and his protege, but the glance 
I gave at it did not prepossess me in its favour. I am glad to 
see, however, that he is eager for a convocation (of course to 
include laymen). I might talk for ever about this unhappy 
business, but I will say no more now of it, unless anything 
particular should occur to me. 

Meanwhile what a sad apathy there is on the subject of 
the Jews ! The Chronicle receives absurd letters in praise 

I from * Liberal clergymen, and the Herald receives still more 
ibsurd letters in opposition from Christians ; but the drift 


of them always is a lamentation of how dreadful a thing it is 
that we should have men who blaspheme the holy name of 
Christ, and call Him an impostor, sitting in Parliament. But 
you might say with quite as much reason, " How dreadful 
that men who do this should be allowed to live at all," and 
then proceed to exterminate them. O we are perishing for 
want of thought ! We give and receive money, eat our dinners, 
whiz away at sixty miles an hour on railways, drink in wisdom 
from the daily press, go through certain alternations of sitting, 
standing, and kneeling for a couple of hours once (or it may 
be twice) a week in a particular building commonly called a 
church, and perform many functions of the same kind, pas 
sively and sometimes quasi - actively with our bodies, but 
always merely passively with our minds. And this state of 
things is not merely palliated but praised as good in itself. 
I read to-day a most singular article on Gladstone and his 
Jew speech in the Daily News. They were by no means 
unfriendly to him; said that he must have some practical 
statesmanlike qualities, or he never would have risen to his 
present eminence, but that what spoiled him was a singular 
habit of his, viz. that he never seemed to do anything from 
a mere practical sense of * political expediency (sic), but 
referred all his actions to some abstract and general prin 
ciples ; that a statesman never had time to think about 
principles (and if he had, they would only perplex him), but that 
his business was to use his sagacity to see what was required 
by the present moment. Would to God we had a few more 
such unpractical statesmen as Gladstone ! Empirics we have 
in abundance, but that men should deliberately wish that 
empiricism should sway the destinies of man ! ! ! 

Speaking of Gladstone reminds me of one of the Morning 
Herald s crotchets. A silly pamphlet by a London clergyman 
appeared the other day, recommending the enfranchisement 
of the Jews, at the same time rather wishing than otherwise 
for the separation of Church and State. On this the Herald 
concocted an article, sagely attributing said pamphlet to 
Maurice ! the extracts which I saw bearing about as much 
rezemblance to Shakespeare s style as to Maurice s ; and to 
think of his writing such a pamphlet ! 



Though I proceed very slowly indeed with the Kingdom 
of Christ, every day seems to bring out more clearly in my 
mind the truth, beauty, wisdom, scripturality, and above all 
unity of Maurice s baptismal scheme. It is difficult to com 
prehend at first, but it seems after a while to rise gradually on 
the mind in its full and perfect proportions and harmony. I 
love him more and more every day. I am carefully reading 
Derwent Coleridge s Sermons on the Church; they are truly 
excellent and beautiful, though the tone is occasionally per 
haps rather too ecclesiastical instead of Catholic. 

The question of the National Defences is interesting 
enough since the publication of the Duke s letter; but it is 
said that at least 140,000 militia and I forget how many of 
the line are to be raised. Seriously I shall not be surprized 
at a war within three months. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 26th, 1848. 

. . . Our Town and Gown Rows have long ceased. The 
magistrates had ordered the police never to interfere ! but 
luckily it was suddenly discovered or recollected that all 
Heads of Houses are ex officio county magistrates, provided 
they take the oaths. This the Vice-Chancellor did on Monday, 
and instantaneously called out all the parish constables, and 
made preparations for swearing in any number of special 
constables that should be found necessary at a moment s 
warning ; and it was agreed at a meeting of the Heads of 
Houses that, should these measures prove ineffectual, they 
would memorialize the Home Office on the subject of the 
magistrates strange and unwarrantable order. But the con 
stables efficiently kept the peace, no cads venturing into 
the streets, and I believe there has been no row since. 
There were a few broken heads, but I do not believe there 
were any very serious injuries received, though doubtless 
some would soon have ensued ; for on the Saturday night it 
was a matter of pokers and life-preservers on the one side 
and the poles of the market booths on the other. It is well 
the University have checked the rows in good time, for every 


one was talking of the legendary Anatomical Rows, when 
the Senate issued orders to the whole University to assemble 
and defend the Anatomical Schools from the mob vi et armis. 
... I have written this letter as coolly and quietly as pos 
sible, but the excitement both abroad and in my own par 
ticular cranium is not small in consequence of this terrific 
news from France. How strange that Louis Philippe should 
twice have to seek shelter in England, where I suppose he is 
by this time. Well, I hope he may meet with a generous 
reception in spite of all his double-dealing, provided always 
that we do not countenance him in his iniquities and 


CAMBRIDGE, March loth, 1848. 

... I am getting well on especially with mathematics, 
which I like better the more I read, as of course is natural 
when getting into the higher subjects ; for instance, it was very 
interesting to-day to solve the problem by which Newton dis 
covered the laws of the Solar System, and to feel that though 
apparently I had only to deal with a mathematical figure of 
lines and A s and B s on paper, still that S did really stand for 
.Sun, and that body moving in an ellipse meant our own 
little lump of earth. You will be sorry to hear that Tait has 
been very ill for some time of rheumatic fever; the last 
account (two days ago) was that it had reached his heart 
and he was not expected to live. I am most grieved about 
it for his own sake, and as for Rugby, I know not what will 
be its fate. 1 


CAMBRIDGE, March 1848. 

... I find on inquiry that it will be very desirable to 
make arrangements respecting reading in the summer term 
now, if I am to go with a party. Now at the beginning of the 
term Clark begged me to ask Budd whether he thought me 

1 These fears were of course not realised. 


likely to be a wrangler ; it was an awkward question to ask, 
but I laid it on Clark s shoulders. Budd said that at my 
present rate, working moderately about half at mathematics, 
if I took up the Differential Calculus, and would read with any 
one in the Long Vacation, I was sure of being a wrangler. The 
Differential I have had in lecture this term, and am now going 
to do some more with Budd, so thus the case stands. I tell 
you this that you may know the circumstances clearly. This 
would seem to point to the expediency of going in the summer 
with a party and tutor, unless there is some reason against it. 
. . . It seems to me that it is a mistake to regard this 
vacational reading merely as an extra-terminal term, that it is 
vacation ; while at the same time it is utterly absurd to do 
as many parties do, squander money on a tutor, and then 
scarcely open a book but amuse themselves with gaiety, 
never-ceasing excursionising, or anything else they like, the 
whole time. This arises from various causes ; the habits of 
the tutor, the character and number of the party, the place of 
abode, etc. etc. The object then is to get a small (not above 
five) party of quiet reading men, who are likely to go well 
together ; a tutor likewise quiet and reading, but cheerful and 
one who would enjoy a walk not merely as a routine consti 
tutional ; and lastly, a desirable locality, the four chief excel 
lencies being freedom from much society (for it often happens 
that the neighbourhood are hospitable to reading parties), 
freedom from other reading parties as much as possible, cheap 
ness, and fine scenery. 


CAMBRIDGE, Saturday night, April &th, 1848. 
... I have deferred writing till after post hour, that I 
might be able to give the result of the Little-go. I am ex 
amined and approved ; whether in the first or second class I 
shall not know for a week, but I am pretty sure in the first. 
. . . Very few have been plucked as yet, especially at Trinity. 
One of those misfortunates gave a somewhat singular answer in 
the O. T. history ; one of the questions, speaking of the plague 
of locusts in Egypt, asked, What became of the locusts? 


he answered, " John the Baptist ate them." ... I was 
rather puzzled, in inserting my name (in Latin) in the scholar 
ship book, to know what to put for my native county ; I wrote 
at last * Eblancnsis? but I do not know whether they will 
understand. A friend of mine, born at Bombay, was still more 
puzzled. A Chartist meeting here did not come off; the 
cricket-balls on Parker s Piece were too formidable. 


CAMBRIDGE, April 26th, 1848. 

My dear Blunt Having obtained some further information 
respecting the new scheme, I am sure you will like to hear 
something about it. The younger Macmillan has been spend 
ing some days in London, and consequently had an oppor 
tunity of getting two hours conversation with Maurice on 
Good Friday. The publication is to be a royal 8vo double 
column magazine (size of Penny Magazine] weekly, at a penny 
per week, to be called Politics for the People ; the chief writers 
to be Maurice, Hare, Kingsley, and Scott, a great friend of 
Maurice s, whose writings I do not know, but they are greatly 
praised by Macmillan, and Ellerton and Howard confirm the 
character given him. Anybody, however, that likes may 
write, subject, of course, to the discretion of the editor (who 
the editor is, Macmillan does not know). The tone of it is 
not to be, " Don t make such a row, you poor people ; the 
Charter and all that sort of thing is humbug ; you don t know 
anything about yourselves ; let us alone, and trust wiser heads 
than yours " ; but rather to sympathise with all their feelings ; 
show what are the real, true, and good principles which take 
such absurd shapes as Chartism, etc., contradicting themselves 
in struggling to express themselves ; in short, to speak as 
working men workers with brains, to working men workers 
with hands. Everything is to be anonymous. 

I have been greatly delighted to hear that you approve of 
Maurice s chapter on Baptism ; I think you will now thoroughly 
enjoy his second volume, especially its noble ending. I 
cannot say how deeply grieved I have been by your account 
of poor Manning, though I have never read a line of his 


writings, but should much wish to do so. I would only 
hope there may be some misapprehension of facts ; all who 
know anything of him speak of him in such high and affectionate 
terms ; he would be a loss indeed. At present Newman is, I 
think, the only really great captive whom Rome can boast, 
but Manning would be a second. Doubtless, if a man 
conscientiously thinks that he ought to go to Rome, he ought, 
but it by no means follows that he is in no degree morally to 
blame in the process by which his mind has arrived at such a 
result ; and I certainly think it a most fearful thing to quit 
the church of one s baptism, if that church be a church and 
not a mere sect. 

Master Humphrey s Clock is an especial favourite of 
mine ; The Old Curiosity Shop is exquisite, though perhaps 
more ideal than human; and Barnaby Rudge is the per 
fection of a tale ; but I do not think either are in the least 
degree to be compared to Dombey and Son ; they are quite 
unrivalled. I have been reading Tancred at breakfast and 
tea ; it is most eccentric, but on the whole striking and good. 


CAMBRIDGE, May $th, 1848. 

. . . The first thing you will wish to know about is the 
scholarships. I have not got one. Only five of the thirteen 
have been given to our year, while six were universally expected. 
The successful candidates are Chance, the best classic of the 
year, and also an excellent mathematician ; Westlake, the second 
or at most third best mathematician of the year at Trinity, and 
a first-class classic also, who read both classics and mathe 
matics with the best coaches at Cambridge for three years 
before he entered the University (these two were always quite 
certain) ; Watson, who is universally set down as Senior 
Wrangler ; Beamont, who is certainly among our four best 
classics, and is further well read in mathematics (N.B. He 
reads eleven hours a day both term and vacations alike, and 
until this term, when he went to London for three days, he had 
not taken a single holiday except Sundays and Christmas Day 
since last June twelvemonth, except that in last Easter vaca- 


tion he read eight hours a day instead of eleven) ; and finally 
Bowring, one of our best mathematicians and a very good 
classic besides. I am afraid I have been a little disappointed, 
for I did so much better in the examination than I expected 
that my hopes were raised, though I did not feel the least 
certainty of success, and I certainly have no reason to be dis 
contented when I see who the successfuls are. ... I should 
mention here that in a talk which I had with Thompson 
between papers on Saturday morning I asked how I had done 
in the Craven ; he said that the examiners had not taken parti 
cular notice of any, but that they mentioned my name among 
twelve or fourteen who had struck them as the best. 


CAMBRIDGE, May iqth, 1848. 

. . . With respect to s scholarship, I certainly 

envy neither that nor any other honour he may obtain by 
such suicidal means. He evidently means to get the Craven 
next year, and to be Senior Classic the year after ; but I do 
not think he is at all certain of either of these distinctions, 
which are the highest objects of his wishes, and for the 
acquisition of which he now sacrifices everything ; but two or 
three, and I hope myself among the number, will run him 
hard for both without turning ourselves into Classics-sausages. 


. . . You will have seen my unaccountable good luck. 1 I 
suppose some of my philosophical or St. Mark answers tickled 
the fancy of the examiners, for the composition of the first 
class shows how completely mathematics ruled the roast. . . . 

Maurice on the Lord s Prayer I have just finished, and am 
delighted with it beyond measure, especially with " Thy will 
be done," etc., and the last sermon. I am steadily advancing 
with Guesses at Truth, second series, with, of course, a not 

1 i.e. In the College examination. 


very unequal pleasure. The essays on Progression I think 
remarkably wise and Christian, particularly at the end. I am 
ashamed to say I have not yet ordered last Saturday s number 
of Politics. I sent on Saturday a paper (without my name) 
in answer to Ludlow s attack on Carlyle, signed T.C.C., but I 
am doubtful whether they will admit it * ; its English is detest 
able, but possibly Maurice may fancy it, as a general Help 
. to the Interpretation of Carlylese, I wrote it at the time when 
I ought to be in bed (as I am now doing), and consequently 
it is very crude and imperfect. 

I have written, I believe, three lines of the Hulsean Essay, 
and read scarcely anything, but my eagerness to try increases 
daily. I read to-day Simon Ockley s Introduction ; it is amus 
ing and sometimes sensible, but his ideas on the subject of 
history are ludicrous and original. 

I went yesterday (Wednesday) to the distribution of the 
prizes at the College, to see my dear little pupil (whom I 
remember mentioning to you, and who just missed a scholar 
ship there in February) receive his prize. . . . Dobson, the 
Principal, spoke for an hour, to my great delight ; no flattery 
or talkee-talkee, but he abused the parents for giving their 
boys unauthorized holidays, etc., in the most capital style. He 
evidently fears neither public nor board of directors, and so 
goes on well enough ; he then distributed the multitudinous 
prizes, with a suitable modicum of commendation to each. . . . 
Dobson gave us not a bad free version of 

Coelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare ciirrimt. 

viz. Change of school 
Won t mend a fool. 

I was greatly amused by a story that one of my little 
pupil s sisters told me of his perfect innocence of theological 
factions. He came home the other day, telling her that a 
boy had been recounting the several occupations of his uncles 
in London ; one uncle was a doctor, another was a Puritan. 

I This puzzled her, and she asked him whether he was sure of 
the word Puritan. " Either that or something like it ! " " Was 
it Puseyite ? " " Oh yes ! that was the word ! " 
1 Apparently it was not inserted. 



CLIFTON, July 6th, 1848. 

As it happens that I have some perfectly vacant time to 
night, and a letter to you is likely to be a long one, I com 
mence one which may possibly not be finisht for some days. 
I quite forgot to mention in my last letter that on my transit 
through London I was detained by want of train some time, 
and accordingly took the opportunity of paying the Exhibition 
a flying visit of about an hour. On the whole I was dis 
appointed. I had scarcely time to look at more than those 
pictures which I had heard particularly mentioned, scarcely 
even those, and therefore you must add a grain of salt to my 
judgment. E. Landseer s Random Shot is certainly a true 
work of genius, as much in what is left out as in what is 
painted ; so much is left to be filled up by the imagination. 
The pale red light on the snow, yet no sun visible, falling 
on the sides of the lumps only, and therefore before the sun 
has risen any height ; a mere sloping piece of snow without 
background, a clear, grey, transparent frosty air, etc. The pair 
from the Lyra Innocentium delighted me most ; for, though 
not works of high genius, there was an indescribable air of 
Raphaelic soft, gentle, calm beauty about them. If I had 
had time, I could have gazed at them all day long. Stanfield s 
landscapes are fine, but their style scarcely admits high art. 
There is a queer one of Armitage s, some interview between 
Henry VIII. and Catherine of Aragon. His jovial figure 
was conceived with much fun, nursing his gouty leg, and well 
drawn, but it is plain that this piece of waggery was the only 
thing in the picture really felt by the artist. What surprised 
me most was the miserable execution of nine-tenths of the 
pictures ; so many were mere daubs. The sculpture is 
execrable, except Una and the Lion, which is more than 
tolerable. (Three cheers for Spenser !) I was of course 
interested in the figures of the young princes. The Prince of 
Wales has a really fine and intellectual face. . . . The busts 
are coarsely and badly executed, and you can scarcely get 
light for any of them. Carlyle s is striking, but the engraving 
gives you a far more living idea of the Iconoclast. The 



Archbishop of Canterbury s is quite ideal. I never saw so 
kind or so stolid a face. 

The day before I left Cheltenham I went to the shop 
where I had ordered the Politics. I gather from some 
thing in No. 9 that it contains one of Kingsley s glorious 
letters J to the Chartists. I hope you will have got them by 
this time ; there are some wonderful things in them, particularly 
Maurice s address in the last number, which, I deeply grieve 
to say, announces the cessation of the periodical at the end of 
this month. 

Of the Heresy Test agitation I have seen nothing except 
the official circular to which you allude, which is one of the 
most dishonest affairs I ever saw; one not in the secret would 
suppose, not that they were abolishing a test, but setting up 
one which had been spurned, viz. that of the Articles. The 
importance of the question seems to me incalculable. I feel 
most strongly how thankful we should be that God, in His 
care for this branch of His Church, restrained the framers of 
our Articles from introducing into them those Calvinistic 
errors to which they were themselves so much inclined, as is 
indicated by several phrases in the Articles ; but the policy of 
the Evangelicals is to have the Articles interpreted by the 
other writings of their human framers, and not by the Antient 
and Catholic Symbola and Liturgies which our Divine Chief 
Bishop has provided for our safeguard. This reminds me of 
Hooker, whose preface (and a little more) I have lately read with 
much delight, and it is wonderful how his description of the 
Puritans of his day fits on those of ours. . . . 

I really do not understand what you mean when you expect 
me to be surprized at many things in your views. What 
your peculiar position is, I mean as differenced from mine not 
in degree only but also in kind, I do not know ; but perhaps 
you will forgive my saying a few words of the thoughts that 
every event and book confirms in my mind. For it is impossible 
to forget how important is every event now happening, every 
opinion now broached in reference to the part that you and I 
alike, if God spare us, will have to play in life ; and nothing so 
frequently engages my attention as thinking what my theo- 
1 The letters signed Parson Lot. 


logical position must be. Now, looking at the doctrinal 
question, I think we shall avoid much disquietude by laying 
it down as a preliminary axiom that we must not expect ever 
to get to the bottom of the meaning of baptism. One of the 
things, I think, which shows the falsity of the Evangelical 
notion of this subject, is that it is so trim and precise, so totus 
feres atque rotundus, as Simeon would have exprest it. Now no 
deep spiritual truths of the Reason are thus logically harmonious 
and systematic, hence I never expect to get completely round^ 
to comprehend, the idea of baptism. But I believe we agree 
in thinking that Maurice s view, so far as we enter into it, is 
the true one, though I, at least, and I should be surprized 
were it otherwise, am still rather /;/ nubibus about some 
points relating to it ; chiefly concerning the relation of the 
baptized to the unbaptized. Is the Holy Spirit given only in 
baptism (I mean, of course, not till baptism), or given before 
but increased in baptism, or lastly, is it given to every human 
creature, and is baptism only its seal and assurance ? This is 
a point on which I should much like to have a long talk with 
Maurice himself. 

But with respect to what is to be our conduct in reference 
to this question, which seems likely to split our Church, I 
think our duty is plain, viz. to remain neutral as far as possible 
neutral, I mean, as to joining a party ; at the same time 
in language stating that we maintain Baptismal Regenera 
tion as the most important of doctrines, claiming for our 
selves that title, and letting the Romanisers find out the 
difference between their view and ours if they will, but con 
sidering that no business of ours ; but on the other hand, should 
things come to such a pass that, as in the war between 
Charles I. and his Parliament, neutrality is an impossibility, 
and we must join one party or the other, I should have no 
hesitation in cleaving at all hazards to the Church for several 
reasons : ist, . . . almost all Anglican statements are a mixture 
in various proportions of the true and the Romish view ; 2nd, 
the pure Romish view seems to me nearer, and more likely to 
lead to, the truth than the Evangelical ; 3rd, we should bear 
in mind that that hard and unspiritual mediaeval crust which 
enveloped the doctrine of the sacraments in stormy times, 



though in a measure it may have made it unprofitable to 
many men of that time, yet in God s providence preserved it 
inviolate and unscattered for future generations ; 4th, whatever 
may be the inclinations of the so-called Anglo-Catholics, 
they cannot restore medievalism ; the nineteenth century 
renders it impossible ; and further, the Bible then was closed, 
but now, thanks to Luther, it is open, and no power (unless it 
be the fanaticism of the bibliolaters, among whom reading so 
many chapters seems exactly to correspond to the Romish 
superstition of telling so many dozen beads on a rosary) can 
close it again ; a curious proof of which is afforded by the absurd 
manner in which the Anglo-Catholics defend, as they think, 
the Bible from Rationalists ; 5th, to the Church, her con 
stitution being sacramental, we must adhere, if we will follow 
God s way and not our own; only in the Church does He 
promise all the blessings of the New Covenant. We may have 
to suffer the temporary loss of some goodly branches of 
Christianity, and much of its genial and spiritual quality may 
be in part debarred us ; still we dare not forsake the Sacra 
ments, or God will forsake us. Holding them, we hold the root 
and the trunk, shorn for a while of its foliage, perhaps of its 
branches, but in due time they will sprout forth again ; whereas 
if we forsake the root and trunk to embrace the foliage, we 
shall find it wither before long, and we shall be embarked on 
a stormy sea of opinion without rudder or oar. 

... I do not feel quite so certain of the truth of Arnold s 
view of the Sabbath as I did. I do not mean that I am re 
turning to the Judaizing notion, but I am inclined to regard 
the Sabbath as an universal institution for mankind, of the 
same kind as and coaetaneous with the universal institution of 
marriage. I do not see clearly whether this is Maurice s view, 
but I believe it is not far from it ; thus its central idea would 
be not abstinence from work, but rest, in accordance with the 
words, " The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the 

I Sabbath." Sabbath-breaking will then include little else than 
hindering Sunday from being a day of rest to others. 
... I do not think there is a book more utterly free from 
Manichaeism than the Christian Year, nor can I believe that 
its author s mind, however narrowed by dogmas, could ever 


lose its genuine and healthy Christian freshness. Talking of 
your friend Shields and his carnivora forsaking the butcher 
for the greengrocer, I am inclined to think that no such state 
as Eden (I mean the popular notion) ever existed, and 
that Adam s fall in no degree differed from the fall of each of 
his descendants, as Coleridge justly argues that in each 
individual man there must have been a primal apostasy of the 
will, or else sin would not be guilty, but merely a condition of 

I have now finisht the Guesses ; they are mostly good, 
but I have faults to find. He should not slander Heathen 
virtue, etc., but the pieces on Idolatry, Obscurantism, In 
dependence, where, however, I think he misunderstands 
Horace, are delightful. I wrote anonymously to him a week 
ago, pointing out to him his apparent plagiarism about the 

Hearing that J. H. Newman was about to go over to Rome, 

, a perfect stranger, sent him a copy of some book on the 

errors of Popery, with a request that he would return it when 
read, as it was borrowed from a friend ; and also a copy of 
1 my unanswerable Essay on Romanism : at the same time 
assuring Newman that he always maintained that it was only 
on the ground of Anglo- Catholicism that Popery could be 
resisted ; and that he had stood on that ground in his well- 
known controversy with some priests in Dublin, at which it 
was generally allowed that he stumped the priests. Newman 
sent him a cool, pithy, but proper answer, saying that as the 
book was borrowed^ he returned it at once. 

I hope has had enough of his friends the Communists 

by this time. What an awful affair it has been ! The blood 
shed is a cheap price indeed if it have crushed that devilry ; 
but the quiet, individual, deliberate assassinations and burnings 
show that there is no security. The utter ignorance of the 
subject that I meet with surprizes me. The whole is looked 
upon as a sort of violent and extreme Radicalism or Re 
publicanism ; they use Socialist and Communist in 
differently, and there seems not the smallest insight into 
the deep and turbid feelings of the age. What disgusts me 
most is the sneers that qualify every expression of praise of 




Lamartine. " Oh ! he s a poet / a man of imagination and 
enthusiasm, a dreamer ! with a good deal of the sentiment of 
religion ! how can a poet be a statesman ? " Bah ! the utter 
ignorance of poetry and art that seems universal ! Truth to 
say, however, I have not quite so high an opinion of Lamartine 
as I had, though I never can forget the noble stand he took 
in defence of law at the dangerous and critical moment of 
the first outbreak. 

I am getting on very slowly with my essay. I fancy it will 
startle the Examiners a little I mean of course by its novel 
style and mode of treating the subject, not by its merits. 
Here I have written a tremendous letter all about myself and 
my own doings, and I hope you will do the same ; for, though 
I am afraid I have thought more of what I wisht to say than 
what you would like to hear, it is just all that you have to say 
on any or all of these or other subjects, that is what I most 
want to get from you. Since writing the above I have been 
down in Bristol looking at some of the churches. The 
Cathedral is very poor, in the Transition style from Decorated 
English to Perpendicular, but bad of both. There is, how 
ever, a very beautiful Norman gateway in the close. 


BRYN HYFRYD, DOLGELLY, August gtk, 1848. 
[Finished August 

I am at last endeavouring to begin an answer to your most 
delightful letter. ... I had a beautiful passage to Ilfracombe, 
and the sail from Linton to that place close in shore by moon 
light was most enjoyable. I had a very pleasant three weeks 
at Ilfracombe, and botanised extensively, especially at sea-weeds. 
It is a curious country ; most of the hills themselves are ugly 
and tame, but they are intersected by beautiful wooded 
1 coombes or vallies. At Ilfracombe itself there is a great 
contortion of the strata, which makes the hills much broken, 
especially on the sea -shore, where the rocks are very fine. 
The Old Red Sandstone is there represented by a sort of soft, 
very fissile slate. 


You will be curious to hear of the church. We went to 
the parish church. The service was excellently performed 
(not chorally), the choir consisting of nine girls from the 
schools in white caps and tippets, who were beautifully 
trained, but deeper and fuller tones were wanted ; the chants 
were mostly Gregorian, and I got to like them exceedingly. 
The sermons are a great deal quieter than they were four years 
ago. One man whose face struck me much, preached twice : 
. . . He seemed really to feel the Church and the Sacraments 
to be Divine, and not mere amulets, or things ^to be talked big 
about. The last Sunday I was there I heard the Bishop of 
Fredericton preach for his new Cathedral, and was exceed 
ingly pleased. There was nothing very striking in the sermon, 
which was, however, sensible, moderate, and good; but his 
earnest, gentle manner quite won me to love him. 

I left Ilfracombe this day week by coach to Barnstaple ; 
thence also by coach to Tiverton, and thence by rail to 
Taunton, . . . and went up into the town to see the churches. 
St. Mary s is perfectly magnificent. It is early Perpendicular, 
and has a grand lofty tower of six or seven stories. It has 
been lately fully restored, and so I had to pay sixpence ad 
mission, much to my disgust at the imitation of St. Paul s. 
It is very large, but naviform, and has no gallery but a small 
one at the west end for the organ. The columns are light and 
exquisite, the capitals being an angel-bust holding a shield ; 
the roof is of the finest wood-carving, and the sittings are a 
sort of open wide seats. There are some good new stained- 
glass windows, and a fine font with a most magnificent cover 
to it. I think it would be perfect in its kind, but for the 
polychrome which covers almost every place ; yet so exquisitely 
has it been managed that you do not perceive the gaudiness 
till you examine the parts in detail. . . . 

After seeing the churches, I met Chambers by appoint 
ment at the station, and again railed to Bristol. Here we 
ran to give him a peep at St. Mary s RedclifTe. . . . We 
started by the mail at a quarter past 2 A.M., reached Here 
ford about 6, after seeing the sun rise beautifully over 
Malvern, and then ran to peep at the Cathedral. It is neither 
large nor rich, but a noble, simple Early English building (with 

AGE 20 



some Perpendicular windows), and Dean Merewether seems 
restoring it in the best possible taste. Thence for a long way 
over the rich undulating plain of veritable Old Red Sandstone 
to Kington, where we entered Wales. 

Thence we wound up through hills of slate, some pretty, 
others not, passing one exquisite spot, the vale and inn 
of Pen-y-bont, to Rhayader. Here the scenery became wilder 
and more mountainous, and gradually we ascended to a most 
bleak and dismal region on the shoulder of Plinlimmon, a 
mere bog-dumpling, whose head did not appear. Thence 
we drove rapidly down, obtaining most glorious views, to 
Aberystwith, which we reached at 4 P.M. We strolled on the 
beach in the evening and picked up pebbles, and then went to 

At half-past 7 A.M. we again mounted the coach, and after 
winding over and among some fine hills, on surmounting one 
ridge, we came upon a sight which I shall never forget. 
Below us was a rich hill with a mixture of grassy hollows, 
woods, and thickets sloping down to the noble estuary of the 
Dyfi (or Dovey), the tide being fully in ; and on the opposite 
shore, just where the narrow lake opened into the blue sea, 
lay the village of Aberdyfi, the scene of the earlier part of the 
first story of the Shadows of the Clouds?- It was at the 
base of high hills soon rising into high mountains, swelling 
with knolls of all colours, some a rich purple with heath, 
others a dun yellow with furze, others all tints of green, 
and, as if to complete the whole, the light white clouds hid 
the sunshine from innumerable spots on the hills, and their 
shadows were ever shifting and changing the wondrous 
beauty of the view. This was at ten on a bright August 
morning, when everything lookt fresh and joyous. I cannot 
describe my feelings at the sight, which probably on that very 
spot suggested the title of that wonderful book perhaps had 
no small share in exciting the thoughts which there find 
expression. I do not think the most bigoted of the orthodox 
could feel any bitterness against the poor doubter there. It 
seemed as if it were not one Oxford student s questionings 

I hat came before me, but the groans and cries of a distracted 
1 By J. A. Froude. 


world. All the seething abysses of humanity, growing ever 
hotter as centuries flew by, seemed boiling over in a 
wild negation, emptying the world of its life yet pleading 
for living beings, bursting in its phrensy many heart-threads, 
yet checkt and pulled aside by others more fully instinct 
with the life of God. And then all this misery and madness 
was so real and well grounded. I, the heir of all the ages, 
inherited, as part of the awful legacy, the accumulation and 
culmination of all they had of dark and horrible, and it ever 
went with me, casting its shadow on me, and threatening 
itself to crush me. And then the 72nd Psalm rang through 
my ears, and the calm sea reflecting the sky and the solid 
mountains seemed to confirm its words, and I felt that all the 
beauty before me was owing to the sun, and the shadows on 
the mountains were cast by their own earthy exhalations, 
while he kept his steady course unchanging above. I am 
afraid all this sounds absurd enough on paper; but the 
Shadows of the Clouds made an impression on me of a sort 
that no other book ever did, and the scene, so glorious in itself, 
and entwined with such associations, might well move me 
more than ordinary views. 

To continue my narrative : we soon reached Machynlleth, 
pretty and no more ; and then drove through some beautiful 
vallies, till at the end of one of them part of Cader Idris 
appeared. We descended into the long straight valley of Tal- 
y-Llyn, barren and rugged, which runs along his back ; walked 
up it, and then rounding the end of Cader, came upon a 
beautiful view of the rich valley of Dolgelly, with mountains of 
moderate height on the other side. We reacht the town at 
half-past one. Mathison, Mackenzie, and Gill came three or 
four hours afterwards from Chester by Rhuabon and Bala. 
We have a most excellent house just outside the town on, 
in fact, the base of Cader Idris, though he is too near to be 

We have now (August 2oth, I am ashamed to say) had 
many glorious walks, as to the waterfalls of Rhaiadr Du, etc., 
and the tops of various mountains, including of course Cader 
Idris, which has some noble precipices. We read very toler 
ably, about five hours a day : I botanise considerably, and we 


are seldom less than six hours on a walk. Our costumes are, 
of course, peculiar. I, for instance, appear in a shooting- 
jacket with a shepherd s plaid over my shoulders, a wide 
awake on my head, a large vasculum on my back, and a stout 
stick in my hand ; to say nothing of knives, small vasculum, 
hammers, etc., in pockets; but I get mighty little time for 
private reading or writing. We leave this on Thursday week, 
and we have strong hopes of getting a house at Llanberis 
for the remaining fortnight, when we shall inspect Snowdon 

The church here is a singular building ; the guides call it 
"a neat structure in the Greek style of architecture." This 
sketch will give you an idea of the windows, but at a distance 
the effect is not bad. The inside is most rough and slovenly : 
coarse open seats like forms with backs to them, rude gallery 
with an arch of this shape, etc. The morning service and 
sermon are in Welsh. We always attend, and in fact can 
take almost as good a part in the service as in England. It 
not only made one bless God for an uniform Liturgy in which 
all might join of different tongues, realising the Romish idea 
of universal Latin prayers, but seemed to give a substantial 
reality and meaning to Catholicity ; it was truly the Catholic, 
the universal Church, offering up united prayers, overleaping 
the bounds of race and tongue, asserting one Lord, one faith, 
one baptism. 

I send you the Politics, for I am sure you must long for 
them. Maurice s Confessions of William Milward^ contain 
treasures of practical instruction both for our own hearts and 
our conduct to others. I know no tale to compare to them 
for divine unconscious humanity ; words cannot express the 
depth of my obligations to them ; verily God s Laws are 
mightier than theories. The magnificent Letters to Land 
lords must be Kingsley s; no one else could write them. 
They convey the true ideal of English character. You will see 
that the last few numbers are almost exclusively addrest to 
the upper classes. There are some invaluable articles of 
Maurice s on Education, especially in Nos. 14, 15; the former 
has a most pregnant article on the Colonies. In another year 
1 A story published in supplementary numbers of the Politics. 


men will be compelled to see the gigantic importance of the 
question. I have got the plan of the colony of Canterbury, 
but not yet finisht reading it. Also a singular but pithy 
Dialogue by W. S. Landor on Italy. . . . 

I quite agree with you that Lord Ashley is a noble fellow 
when he rises above his coneyism, but I am very suspicious 
of his Ragged School Emigration scheme; surely we have 
enough colonies already visited with God s curse for being 
composed of the dregs of society. I can t make out from 
Maurice s article what he thinks about it. 

There are three most interesting things in yesterday s 
paper in the debates, ist, A short, wise, temperate speech 
of Gladstone s on the Education quarrel between Government 
and the National Society, in which he by no means rejects 
lay management, only complaining of the want of interest 
shown by laymen. Lord John thanked him heartily for his 
speech, and said that the quarrel was all but settled. 2nd, 
Gladstone made a long speech, universally applauded, on 
Lord Grey s mismanagement of Vancouver s Island, which 
will soon be among our most important colonies. 3rd, The 
money voted for the Professorships at the Universities, which, 
of course, involved an attack on both Professorships and 
Universities. Goulburn ably defended both ; and Lord John 
said, in reference to the petition for the admission of Dis 
senters to degrees at Cambridge, that his idea was to make 
us give them certificates of examination (the three and a 
quarter s years course they have now) when they had been 
examined as if for our degrees, but make the London Uni 
versity confer the degrees. Gladstone again made a most 
beautiful, short, sensible speech, testifying that at Oxford the 
colleges were daily becoming more efficacious, real living 
bodies, and thanking Lord John warmly for his wise, practical 
views and intentions. 

I have not time now to talk of ... so will pass on. Nor 
indeed of the Sabbath; only observing that in my idea 
Sabbath-neglecting would be the mischief, and Sabbath- 
breaking mean simply nothing. 

I have just read through The Princess again with the 
utmost delight; I do not know whether its wisdom or its 


beauty predominates. I am still, however, in the dark as 
to the meaning of one of the Idyls, that beginning 

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white. 

I utterly and entirely recant the slanders I formerly uttered 
against its purity ; The Sainfs Tragedy has taught me truer 
ideas. By the way, I have also just read that book again, 
and of course likewise with redoubled pleasure and, I hope, 
more than pleasure ; somehow or other much of its manifold 
meaning must have escaped me on the first perusal. I had 
been thinking for some weeks on one of the mysterious sub 
jects which it handles gently but resolutely ; I scarcely know 
what suggested it to me I believe a remarkable passage in 
the first Guesses. I had much inward debating, but at last I 
came to the conclusion which, to my great delight, I have 
since found The Sainfs Tragedy teaches. 

But I must now (August 25th) return to your kind com 
ments on my scrap of Essay, 1 which I have long received. I 
agree in the main with your observations, tho I am not in 
clined to adopt all your alterations. ... To tell the truth, as, 
whether successful or unsuccessful, I can of course write only 
for the former alternative, I am not without hopes in that case 
of effecting something in poor Oxford, which, I forgot to tell 
you, is now, I hear on good authority, overrun with earnest 
disciples of Froude and George Sand; especially a knot of 
Rugby men. Tennyson I will think about, but I am loth to 
leave him out ; he explains so well what I mean, and is useful 
collaterally by showing that I am not transcribing cut-and-dry 
notions from Maurice or elsewhere, but mean what I say, 
and am able to recognize the same idea under dissimilar forms. 
Manichaeism is very delicate ground, though possibly I may do as 
you suggest ; but I am afraid not only of seeming MavpiKifcw, 
but of marring all by what must be in fact a general attack on 
the whole religious world of all parties. I have written very 
little more, being hard up for time here, but will send when I 
have a decent scrap. There is no limit to the length, but in my 

>e the difficulty will be to write long enough from want of time; 

cannot help my introduction being disproportionate. . . . 

1 For the Hulsean prize. 


I saw an extract from the article that you mention ; it 
spoke of a High Church feeling, even when Tractarianism 
proper is on the wane, gaining ground in both Universities. 
I believe it is true, and we may well thank God for it ; we 
need it much. Politics drive me mad, when I think of them. 
Ireland I expect every moment to break out afresh, not per 
haps in civil war but in endless skirmishing and bloodshed, 
and it seems the spirit of the age will not hang traitors. 
The Chartists in London have, I suppose you know, been 
found to be solemnly leagued with the French Communists, 
and the same confederation extends through Europe. We 
shall have a bloody winter in the provinces, perhaps in 
London. O that Gladstone or even Peel were in ! Italy is 
vexatious indeed; I suppose her time is not yet come, but 
injustice and robbery shall not always prevail, however 
Disraeli may sneer at the sentimental principle of nation 
ality that s because the Italians are not Jews. 

. . . But it has struck 2 A.M., so good night or morning, 
which you please. 


DOLGELLY, August l6tk, 1848. 

... On Sundays we have attended the Welsh service in 
the morning, which we could easily follow, and the English in 
the afternoon. As there are four services in the day, the 
English sermon generally falls to some clergyman passing 
through, and they do not always fare well in consequence ; 
for instance, ten days ago an old canon of Manchester who 
preached recommended us to keep regularly a journal for 
entering all our good and all our bad actions, and to take 
care to keep the balance on the side of the former, as we 
should then feel very comfortable on our death-beds ! ! 


PLYMOUTH, September 2$th, 1848. 

I presume from your silence that you are waiting for a 
fresh instalment of my unhappy Essay. . . . 


I spent a very pleasant month at Dolgelly, and a still 
more pleasant fortnight at Llanberis, right at the foot of 
Snowdon ; C. C. Babington was there for two or three days, 
and I had some very enjoyable botanical expeditions with 
him. But I have no time to say more than that, after 
scrambling about crags and precipices to my heart s content, 
I left Llanberis last Monday, went to Bangor, Menai Bridge, 
Britannia Bridge, Beaumaris, Bangor, and Conway, and came 
on by a night train to Plymouth, where my family have been 
nearly a fortnight. It is an interesting place, but I cannot 
stop to talk about it. I hope to enjoy the neighbourhood of 
Torquay. . . . 

I have just got Henry of Exeter s August Charge, as well 
as Archdeacon Manning s. The first I have read with much 
satisfaction ; probably I should not agree with all he says, 
but his defence of the Prayer-book and his utter demoli 
tion of are truly magnificent. Manning s I have only 

glanced at; it is chiefly on the Hampden case, and seems 
written in quite the right spirit, and promises to be invalu 
able. I never read anything more beautiful than some of 
the passages. 


TORQUAY, October 2nd, 1848. 

This is a most beautiful spot, and the air (on the hills) 
far less relaxing than I expected ; the verdure is of the richest 
green, and the view of Torbay through the wooded villose 
hills is exquisite. At the back we have within a mile or two 
noble limestone and marble cliffs, and then the beautiful forms 
into which the sea wears the New Red Sandstone, with the 
coast trending away by Teignmouth and Exmouth down to 
the Bill of Portland, which is visible in very clear weather. 
Henry of Exeter s villa, Bishopstowe, commands the most 
beautiful spot of the whole. 

I never was in such a state of mental and spiritual 
lethargy, broken only momentarily by occasional circum- 


stances, as in Wales, and for a fortnight before I went 
there. I do not mean that I did not think and ponder, 
doubt and believe, jactabam et jactabar I might as easily 
live without meat and drink but all the grand scenery did 
not move me as it should have done ; and the utmost effect 
was to make me separate once or twice from the party, get 
close down to a waterfall, and chant some Psalm at the top of 
my voice into the midst of the roar a singular employment 
truly. Nor am I much better now, nor expect to be till I 
hear Trinity organ again, and am able to open my mouth on 
the subject of subjects. 

I am more and more drinking in Maurice s Lord s Prayer. 
I will go so far as to say that, except the Kingdom of Christ , 
there is not a theological book in English to equal it ; but it 
is very hard to get imbued with it. There are, however, 
some inestimable sermons in the other volume, 1 particularly 
a Lent series on our Lord s temptation. It is such a plea 
sure to dwell on them that I must give you a bit that is 
mighty indeed against the worst and the most unceasing of 
temptations, viz. to deny our baptism. . . . 

[Then follow two quotations from Christmas Day and other Sermons, 
from Sermon xii. pp. 167, 1 68, and from Sermon xiii. pp. 181, 182.] 

I think the Canterbury scheme admirable, and wish it all 
success. With regard to what you say about joining it, the 
thought has more than once flitted across my mind. I am 
afraid that, at all events, a selfish attachment to home would 
keep me here, to say nothing of unselfish attachment. I 
cannot bear the idea of being separated from the fortunes 
of our own ancestral Church and not yet enslaved, not 
wholly vile England. But more than this, I am sure Maurice 
is right in dwelling so strongly on the sin of choosing our 
own circumstances instead of following God s course : now 
our whole bent and purpose has been to labour in the English 
Church, and without some distinct call from God, I do not 
see what right we have to abandon it. 

1 Christmas Day and other Sermons, 1st ed. 1843. 



CAMBRIDGE, November 17 th, 1848. 

. Jenny Lind is, I believe, to be here on the 25th; at 
least there is some negotiation pending touching the Union 
room for her, as they say it will hold eight hundred. A more 
successful attempt than usual has been made this year to get 
up a football club, which I have joined, as it will relieve the 
dull monotony of Cambridge walks. I was last night sum 
moned suddenly to a meeting of delegates from various schools, 
to draw up a code of laws, effecting a compromise between 
the Eton and Rugby systems, which are totally different. This 
kept me till late, and I forgot that it was my day for writing, 
so that I am sorry to say this is Friday. . . . You ask after 
my brambles : the few which I felt sure I had named rightly, 
were so ; those I had guessed at vaguely were mostly wrong. 
Some gave Babington a good deal of trouble to discriminate, 
being gathered late in the year, when they were no longer in 
perfection. I had got hold of several good ones, and he 
accepted of several (I had dried duplicates of many) as useful 
additions to his herbarium ; one in particular, which I found 
the day I walked towards Teignmouth, was the only English 
specimen he had ever seen answering to the figure and descrip 
tion of a German bramble (at least only very unlike varieties 
of it had been found in England). I had but the one speci 
men, but it was of more consequence to him than me. The 
great long-branched thing was, as I supposed, an odd form of 
a common sort. Curiously enough, the beautiful bramble 
which filled the wood at Berry Pomeroy Castle, and which I 
also found on the way to Anstis Cove, was another form of 
the plant I mentioned last but one, and was quite strange to 
Babington, though he said he felt sure that I had done right 
in referring it to that species. He has asked me, when I have 
full leisure (for he is most careful and anxious not to interfere 
with my regular work), to write him out a list of those I found, 
with their localities. Reckoning up roughly, I find that, in 
cluding recognised varieties, I obtained this summer ten 
brambles at Llanberis, and sixteen at Plymouth and Torquay, 
which, I think, is pretty well for a beginning. I will now con- 


elude, as I am in the midst of a high-flown panegyric on our 
good Edmund, which has to be given in to-morrow night, and 
the greater part of which is as yet unwritten. 


December igth, 1848. 

... I own I have been much annoyed about the Hulsean : 
not that I had any right to expect it from the literary, annota- 
tory, and other merit which generally decides such matters in 
Cambridge University. But I do believe mine had some 
rough life in it, not altogether useless for the times. 

What lots of historical debates at the Union we who 
remain shall witness next year ! I groan at the thought ; only 
I promise myself the luxury of endless denuntiation (to be 
received with the additional luxury of endless groaning) of the 
wretched impostor, 1 calling himself a historian. 


CHELTENHAM, December 2gth, 1848. 

. . . What is to become of Ireland ? Of course you have 
read the deeply interesting letters of Lords Sligo and West- 
meath in the Times. A letter has to-day reacht some rela 
tions of mine here from one of their family who is married to 
the clergyman of a parish near Skibbereen, which says that an 
order has just come down from the Commissioners to say that 
the land shall support all, and that relief shall be given to all 
in the parish, whether they will work or not, at the expense of 
all occupiers in the parish, every one being starved already. 
From all quarters I hear that the sufferings of the clergy and 
smaller gentry this winter are likely far to surpass any of the 
previous sufferings of the poor. I do not know a parallel for 
the cool perverseness of Lord John. There seems a dead 
silence in the political atmosphere : we must only trust that 
Gladstone is preparing for a more terrible onslaught on the 

1 Macaulay, see p. 106. 


English, Irish, and colonial policy of our miserable govern 
ment. If he anticipates Disraeli and leads the attack, there 
is some hope of his attaining the post of pilot to the world. 
Yet Ireland will more than perplex even him. 

Ellerton took his degree and went down in 1849, 
and was for some time tutor to some Scotch boys, to 
whose education some of the letters of this year refer. 
His friend took a keen interest in his efforts for the 
boys improvement, and also advised and encouraged 
him in the difficult and delicate task of instilling 
Catholic principles into the family. 

In the spring of this year Hort obtained his 
scholarship at Trinity, and in W. H. Thompson s 
opinion, did best of his year in classics in the examina 
tion. He had begun to attend the meetings of the 
Ray Club, prominent members of which were Paget, 
the two Stokes, and Adam Sedgwick, and of which he 
himself became a member the next year. There was 
by way of recreation much botanising with Babington, 
and with parties conducted by Professor Henslow. 
Other intimate friends were Henry Mackenzie, C. H. 
Chambers, and J. Westlake, and he corresponded freely 
with Mr. Gerald Blunt, as well as with Ellerton, his 
letters to whom had something of the character of a 
journal intime. Another important friendship, acquired 
in his first term, was that of Daniel Macmillan, to whom 
he had been introduced by his tutor, W. H. Thompson. 
He himself has told, in a paragraph contributed to Mr. 
T. Hughes Memoir (pp. 213, 214), how pleasant talks 
in the larger shop recently opened by Macmillan led to 
a warm intimacy. 

The Long Vacation was spent mostly at the Lakes ; 
in the course of his rambles there his mind ran much 
on theological difficulties, and his perplexities caused 


at times deep depression. The result was that not 
long after his return to Cambridge he wrote to 
Maurice a long letter on Eternal Punishment and 
Redemption, which elicited the answer printed in 
Maurice s Life} This important letter led to a friend 
ship which lasted till Maurice s death. 

At the end of the same term he took scarlatina ; 
the attack was apparently not regarded as severe at 
the time, but it left a permanent mark on his constitu 
tion. The immediate consequence was that he was 
only able to take the first part of the Mathematical 
Tripos in January 1850, and was therefore placed in 
the Junior Optimes, whereas it had been hoped that he 
would be a wrangler. He passed for honours in 
the first part of the examination, and wished to have 
ceger affixed to his name in the final class list, but the 
application was refused for fear of abuse of the pre 
cedent. He had not dared to take an aegrotat 
degree, with the risk of being thereby excluded from 
the Classical Tripos ; strangely enough, it was not 
certain whether or no an honour aegrotat would 
count for this purpose as honours. He had there 
fore to be content with a place much below his merits, 
and unredeemed by any official explanation. It was 
necessary in those days to obtain honours in mathe 
matics in order to go in for classical honours, 
and candidates for the Chancellor s Classical Medals 
were required to have obtained at least a second class 
in mathematics ; from this competition he was there 
fore debarred. He wrote as follows to his mother on 
this unlucky accident : "I am afraid that you all 
take my humble place to heart far more than I do 
myself. I now hardly ever think of it. In fact, if I 
1 Vol. ii. pp. 15, 1 6. 



did, I should be convicting myself of insincerity and 
inconsistency, having always talked pretty loudly 
against the folly of making the degree the sole end 
in reading, and supposing it to be the main object for 
which we come up to the University. Every one here 
knows why I am so low. You all know it, and I 
shall probably take an opportunity of letting Tait 
know before he leaves Rugby. Almost the only 
reason for regret, apart from the loss of a good 
chance of a Chancellor s Medal, is that I shall be 
exhibited in the Calendar in a position which will 
make people think that I despised the mathematics 
of the University, and only read enough of them to 
allow me to take honours in classics, a proceeding 
which I have always vehemently condemned." 

The effects of scarlatina are doubtless also to be 
traced in his place in the Classical Tripos, which was 
a disappointment to his friends. He was bracketed 
third, E. H. Perowne being first, and C. Schreiber 

His father and mother left Cheltenham in this year 
for a house which they rented for a year at the village 
of Newland, in Monmouthshire, whence they moved in 
1851 to Hardwick House, near Chepstow. After a 
summer spent partly in seeing the new home and 
partly in visits to friends, including one to Ellerton at 
his first curacy, during which he "sat up all night 
talking and packing," he returned to Cambridge to 
read for the newly-instituted examinations in Moral 
and in Natural Sciences, and for the Trinity Fellow 
ships. He became a member of the Ray Club and a 
Fellow of the Cambridge Philosophical Society. In 
this and the following years his activity seemed to 
expand even further in all directions, while interests 


apparently conflicting did not distract him from the 
pursuit of aims clearly seen and deliberately chosen. 

His first letter to Maurice had naturally led to 
others ; he consulted him again about a course of 
philosophical reading. Maurice s answer 1 indicates 
that one object of the letter was to obtain guidance 
concerning the light thrown by philosophical theories 
on contemporary social problems. His interest in 
Plato and Aristotle, to say nothing of more modern 
speculations, was anything but antiquarian ; in par 
ticular, the subject of Communism was one which was 
much in his thoughts. 

In May 1850 he for the first time heard Maurice 
preach. The following day he breakfasted with him 
to meet some of the Christian Socialists Mr. 
Ludlow, Mr. T. Hughes, and Vansittart Neale. He 
again breakfasted with Maurice the next day, this time 
alone, and thenceforward their meetings were tolerably 
frequent. His critical attitude towards * Christian 
Socialism is illustrated by his letters to Ellerton. 

Botanical work went briskly forward ; there was 
much correspondence with Babington, who got his 
friend to review botanical books in the Annals of 
Botany^ e.g. Arnott s new Flora published in this year. 
He also was frequently called on to advise friends 
beginning the study of botany. Many friends, and 
not a few strangers, both now and in later years, 
received from him ungrudging and valuable assistance 
of this kind in the Alps or elsewhere. 

On theological and literary subjects he exchanged 
opinions freely by post with Daniel and Alexander 
Macmillan. The former gave him an interesting 
piece of advice with regard to the writing of prize 

1 See Life of F. D. Maurice, vol. ii. p. 37. 



essays, telling him that he " must put his thoughts 
into the form that people are accustomed to : those 
who have important things to say should try to say 
them in the dialect of those to whom they speak." 
From a letter of Alexander Macmillan s it appears 
that Hort did not at this time l appreciate Tennyson s 
In Memoriam. The ground of objection was theo 
logical. For instance, he strongly disapproved of the 
notion that Universalism is necessary to sustain 


CAMBRIDGE, March $th, 1849. 

My dear Ellerton The Addison, or a part thereof, have 
just left my rooms after a most exquisitely amusing semi- 
paper from Isaacs on Solitude ; and now I am sitting down 
to begin to spin a yarn of such brain-stuff as I can command : 
and in fact I have enough to say to make the Post-Office s 
fortune. . . . 

The day you left Hare s pamphlet appeared, with a 
magnificent letter of Maurice s appended. The former is 
very good, tho certainly abusive and once or twice unfair; 
he speaks excellently on Inspiration. Maurice has thundered 
again against all parties, charging upon them the prevalent 
Pantheism, etc., and prophesying their downfall, and the crash 
when it happens ; he manfully asserts the Priesthood, at the 
same time showing its especial function to be the setting free 
of conscience, etc. Most affectionately yours, 



CAMBRIDGE, March loth, 1849. 
FINISHT, April ist. 

... I continue my letter and really I am bursting with 
matter and explosive gas. I believe the book I had better 
1 See vol. ii. p. 71. 


next speak of is Froude s Nemesis of Faith^ a truly wonderful 
book. Its motto needs no comment to assure us of its truth 
now ; it is from the end of the Prometheus^ /cat p?v e^yw . . . 
crecraAetrrcu and cr/apra 8 . . . aTroSet/cvvyaeva. 1 

It is briefly the tale of a young man tormented with sceptical 
doubts, who enters holy orders, is driven from them by the 
exposure of an evangelical, resigns his preferment, and goes to 
Italy, where his doubts increase, and he falls into a strange 
love-affair with the wife of a boorish English squire. At last, on 
her asking him to run off with her (do not judge her too 
harshly till you read the book), he rushes madly away, and is 
rescued from suicide by an old seceded Oxford friend, who 
easily carries him over to Rome ; but he seems to abandon 
that, and the last sentence only declares his utter desolation 
and ruin. The moral is the vengeance that a faith takes on 
such as lightly desert it ; but of course it is chiefly the col 
lateral matter which is meant to tell. The early part consists 
chiefly of letters from the young man, and a sort of auto 
biography he writes. I like it, tho , poor fellow, he is fast 
falling into atheism ; it is beyond measure tearfully earnest 
and awakening. There is a most exquisite scene where the 
poor rector tells his sad state of mind to his kind and noble 
bishop : I must copy a page. 

[Then follows a quotation from R. H. Froude s Nemesis of Faith, ,] 

. . . They must be strange eyes that can read this passage, 
and continue dry. The bishop says soon after what cannot 
(to use a review phrase, slightly altered) be too deeply thought 
over. " There is not one," he says, " not one in all these many 
years which I have seen upon the earth, not one man of 
more than common power, who has been contented to abide 
in the old ways." I have not time to talk more of the book. 

I have the first prize for Latin Declamations. ... Of course 
I shall have to laud some distinguisht character in Latin. 
Some want me to take Arnold, but you will easily understand 
that there are strong objections to so doing. If poor old 
Wordsworth dies in time, he will do gloriously ; if he does not, 

1 Aesch. Prom. 1080-1088. 

;E 20 



think I shall take Coleridge ; and if I do, I will not mince 
matters, but speak out : it is only a pity one will have to 
disguise oneself in Latin. With the result of the Craven I 
have no right to complain, except as sharing the disgrace of my 
year, three second years being first. Maine seems to have 
thought Beamont best of us, but some, if not all, the other 
examiners place me at the head of my year. ... Of course I 
must do my best to get senior classic, if possible. I am now 
(I don t mean to-day , Sunday, April ist) busy enough getting 
up mathematics for a scholarship. I put off not only the 
Porson but Titus till yesterday, when at half-past two I began, 
and wrote forty hexameters before chapel; but after that I 
could not write a line, and of course sent nothing in. 

I have glanced at an anonymous volume of poems (The 
Strayed Reveller, etc., by A.) by Mat. Arnold ; it seemed mild, 
but a by no means contemptible article in the Guardian on it 
and the Ambarvalia speaks well of it. The latter book it 
commends, dough s part at least. Maurice has just announced 
his volume of sermons on the Liturgy, " chiefly considered as 
a preservation against Romanism " : item J. Hare, a second 
volume of parish sermons : item Kingsley, his Twenty-five 
Village Sermons. By the way, you do not mention whether 
you received the pamphlet of Hare s. I have carried Landor s 
Works into the Union, and we have a lot of odd books, Miss 
Martineau inter alia. 

I do not know whether you recollect at the 1688 
debate a nice-looking man opposite making a very sensible 

speech cutting both parties ; his name was . Various 

things made me wish to know him, and I have made his 
acquaintance. It occurred to me that if I stayed up here any 
time, should I get a scholarship and fellowship, I should be 
grievously neglecting an obvious duty if I did not keep an 
intimate connexion with my juniors, or such at least as, from 
their possessing heads or hearts, I might be able to lend a 
helping hand to ; for though bitter experience daily shows how 
much I need guidance myself, I cannot think that any excuse 
for shirking the responsibility of guiding others, where possible. 
This first experiment is not promising : - - is, I really believe, 
a fine fellow, but no theologian, and entirely swallowed up by 



rank Toryism and Byron and Shelley, but has an aversion to 
Maurice, whom he spoke of as the well-known radical, 
who in all his lectures talkt of nothing but the masses and 
their rights, and how they began to feel themselves men. 
He said that Maurice was a most thorough-going disciple of 
Macaulay (in philosophy as well as politics), and that the one 
idea of his mind seemed to be vox populi^ vox Dei / / / 
I had a long battle with him the other day on a point really 
involving the materialistic controversy. I dare not despair of 
him ; besides I have great faith in his beautiful face and head ; 
but it is no easy task I have undertaken. 

I ought to have told you before that I went three weeks 
ago to hear Jenny Lind, who gave a concert here. It would 
be useless to attempt to describe it. Her face is utterly 
unlike all pictures : she has high cheek-bones and a face by 
no means buttery, as she is represented ; but rather plain than 
otherwise, except in her most beautiful, calm, living eyes. But, 
when she begins to sing, all is changed ; her features indeed 
do not themselves become beautiful, but they seem to be 
transparent, and let you see only the pure, heavenly, sunny, 
joyous spirit venting itself in the softest, richest waves of 
music. I am afraid these words will sound affected, but they 
are the best I can think of, to express the peculiar character 
of her singing. 

I really know little of passing politics, except of the last 
month, for before that I seldom read the papers ; so you must 
not ask opinions where I have none. Perhaps this is wrong ; 
would it were the only duty I have neglected ! Of late I 
have observed Gladstone ever at his post, quietly exposing 
abuses, giving up private wishes for public good, being reviled 
and not reviling, in all things a faithful steward to his Master. 

If you have leisure to write, do not be afraid of tiring me, 
even with the petty incidents of your daily life. I long to 
know (of course, really) your little pupils, how you fare with 
them, and with their parents. You would smile if I were to 
write down the prospect of glorious work I see before you, to 
which it has been God s blessed will for your and for old 
Scotland s good to call you ; He is indeed shaking not earth 
only, but also heaven. O that we could always rest sure, as 



we ought, that it is He that is shaking it, that it is the glorious 
God that maketh the thunder ! but our wretched selfishness 
and sin makes this hard. Let us pray, my dear Ellerton, for 
each other, and for all our unknown fellow-strugglers, that we 
may so live that we may shrink from no trial laid upon us, 
but rejoice and triumph in all that befalls, as a. fresh unveiling 

If His perfect glory ! 
CAMBRIDGE, March i$fk, 1849. 
I cannot but regard it as a wonderfully providential thing 
mat you have been summoned up under such strange circum 
stances. Of course you must display your true colors. You 
are no Puseyite, nor should you appear one. You are a 
Catholic Churchman. You should show yourself as such, 
taking every opportunity of inculcating the idea that Catho 
licity means not exclusiveness but comprehensiveness, that all 
bonds of opinion must be exclusive, that the bond of a 
common divine life derived in Sacraments is the most com 
prehensive bond possible. I think, I more than think, you 
should claim leave to attend the Communion, and you may 
have opportunities of showing that, whether all the prayers 
are orthodox or not, the Sacrament remains unchanged ; and 
point to the numberless passages in our Prayer-book which 

militate against absence from the Communion. With I 

would be as frank. Tell him that on the fundamental part of 
the Sacramental doctrines as well as the Succession, you agree 
with him, though you may have differences in detail. Tell 
him your first object is to make the churchmen, and con 
sistent churchmen ; that indoctrination must be a later and 
slower process ; that you must start from the points you have 
in common with them, and follow that course which God 
shall seem to point out, especially avoiding startling them 
needlessly. The prayers you have to read or rather compose 
are, I should think, a very powerful instrument, especially for 

winning over . But with the boys I think you should 

have very little c dogmatic teaching, but make the Catechism 
and Bible your text-books not text in one sense, but you 


can make the Bible a wonderful instrument, simply by not 
treating it as a bundle of texts. Read Maurice s Queen s 
College Lecture on Theology. I suppose I could jaw you in 
this manner to all eternity, but I must stop for want of time, 
and really you know as well as I do, and better, how to act. 
May God direct and bless you and your efforts in the great 
and glorious post He has assigned you. 


CAMBRIDGE, Easter Day, 1849 [April 8/7;]. 

. . . Talking, however, of reminds me of the Bishop 

of London, who all honour to him for it has abolisht the 
annual private and select Confirmation of the children of the 
nobility at the Chapel Royal. It is a disgrace to the Church 
that it should have lasted so long. 

Do not trouble yourself about writing when you have not 
plenty of time for it ; but I am longing to hear all about your 
little charges, and do not yet know even their names. If you 
have time, I should think it would be worth your while, as 
spring advances and you are living in the country, to work a 
little at botany. Independently of my love for the science 
itself, and the principles of universal application which seem 
insensibly to take hold of one from the pursuit, I find it very 
advantageous and refreshing to be able to take refuge for a 
while from the circle of restless human interests of all kinds 
in something lower and yet with all the impress of perfection 
in its own kind, something not spiritual, and yet rewarding 
research with views of infinite order and beauty. This of 
course increases with the earnestness and reality of one s 
study of the subject. Dilettantism here, as everywhere, is 
barren and fruitless. Further, I fancy you might find it good 
to interest your pupils in pursuits pure and healthy, while yet 
not a mere matter of books, without diminishing the manliness 
and freedom which is only acquired (teste Platone, etc. etc.) by 
plenty of bodily exercise and recreation. 

I have got a volume of poems by Currer, Ellis, and 
Acton Bell (it is said rpi&v ovo/xarov jj,op<f>r) [Ata, but I do not 
believe it), i.e. the authors (as I now feel quite sure) of Jane 


Eyre and her sisters, I suppose. There is scarcely a grain 
of poetry as far as I have read ; but under a somewhat 
commonplace guise there is so much curious earnestness and 
feeling that they are highly interesting; but that is all. 
Currer s are much the best. 

Will you mention when you write whether you finisht 
Vanity Fair 1 ? Thackeray was here for a day or two to get 
up materials for his last number, where, I hear, he introduces 
his hero to Oxbridge, while he has friends at Camford ; 
he has a massive, rugged face, not stupid but, as far as I saw, 
which was not well, not remarkable. 

Macmillan promises to use his best endeavours to get 
Maurice and Kingsley up here, and introduce me to them. I 
need not say I shall in that case do all I decently can to 
deepen and perpetuate the acquaintance, and, if so, I shall 
have abundant opportunity of letting Maurice know that some 
at least (I greatly fear, not many) regard their battles as their 
own. That the strife is deepening, I feel more strongly every 
day. I really must close, and read mathematics for to-morrow ; 
so good-night, my dear Ellerton. 


CAMBRIDGE, May 22nd, 1849. 

Thank you much for your very interesting account of 
the boys. Are you sure that you are right in making 
Phsedrus the introduction to Latin, whatever be the con 
ventional First Book? He is easy, but stupid and utterly 
worthless. I must say I think Maurice is in a great measure 
right when he speaks of "the wisdom of the old notion, that 
only the best books, only those which carry a kind of authority 
with them, should be set before boys ; when they have been 
drilled by them into habits of deference and humility, then 
they may venture, if their calling requires it, upon the study of 
the worst, for then they will have acquired the true discerning 
spirit, that spirit of which the judging spirit is the counterfeit ; 
the one perceiving the real quality of the food which is offered, 
the other setting up its own partial and immature tastes and 
aversions as the standard of what is good and evil." 


You, of course, are the best judge as to whether he is up to 
Caesar, but I should not call Caesar a hard author, and his 
style is plain and vigorous. Livy (even the narrative) seems 
to me much harder, chiefly from the condensed style. What 
do you say to the more spirited and easy of Cicero s Orationes ? 
Virgil s sEneid seems to me particularly good for boys. I 
cannot agree with you as to the bad expediency of teaching 
Latin before Greek. The change from a non-inflected language 
to one so rich in grammatical differences as the Greek, should, 
I think, be made gradually, and the direct, rigid nature of the 
Latin makes it probably the best of all languages for the 
teaching of the mechanical but most necessary part of grammar. 
The recent neglect of Latin in Germany and England is pro 
ducing miserable results, producing very showy and very 
superficial Greek scholars. Besides, think of the briars and 
thickets that would fence off your boys from the streaming 
fountains in reading Homer ; to say nothing of constructions, 
his philology is as hard as that of all other Greek authors put 
together : I think it is generally read a great deal too early. 
He labours under another disadvantage in common with 
Herodotus : surely it is well to have secured a good footing in 
Attic before you perplex a boy with other dialects. In prose 
Xenophon and Plato s Apology and the narrative parts of the 
Crito and Phado would do at first, and then Demosthenes 
Philippics and Olynthiacs. 

Poetry is harder to select. If Euripides were more than 
semivir he would be excellent, and still I think selections 
might be made, as well as easy bits of Sophocles (who is quite 
vir). I should think one great way of chaining his interest 
would be to check the boyish (as well as mannish) custom of 
considering that a word in Latin or Greek has a certain 
number of words answering to it in English, all equally good, 
and vice versa ; and to show as you go along (which is easily 
done in a good author, whose language really expresses thought) 
that no word would have done equally well in Latin, and that 
a corresponding care must be exercised in English in short, 
to teach language, the most entrancing of all subjects for a 
young and active mind. As for English poetry, I should be 
sorry if he pretended to like Tennyson, or even Wordsworth ; 

21 CAMBR] 



it would seem to me purely mischievous and unnatural to force 
subjective poetry upon a mind which requires only objective 
poetry, and would otherwise be either disgusted or forced into 
an artificial and unreal precocity. I think you have chosen 
very well in making him read Scott. Spenser would, I suppose, 
be the book, if he were not too immoral and Bible-like for 

s taste ; but could not object to Southey, who 

would suit your purpose well, especially in Madoc. If there 
were but a decent rendering of Homer ! ! Pope, I believe, may 
do good by what of the original he has unwittingly and un 
willingly let through, but this would not compensate for the 
mischief of filling the boy s head with a jingle -jangle of 
pompous nothings. 

I cannot say much for the Rugby teaching of history. 
Pinnock s Goldsmith is (I think) the text-book in the lower 
forms, then Keightley. In the Twenty, Price used to expect us 
to amass materials any whence; and much the same in the 
Sixth. As far as I recollect, the whole direct teaching in Form 
was of English History, Greek and Roman being supposed to 
be imbibed in small doses in the preparation for historical 
allusions in classical books, which were always required to be 
well known. History was also learnt among the extras, 
or subjects taken up voluntarily at the Christmas examination ; 
an admirable and elaborate system introduced by Arnold, 
tho somewhat marred by Tait, for encouraging the peculiar 
tastes of each individual. History is, I think, also generally 
the holiday task in all the forms which have one, viz. all 
below the Sixth and Twenty ; this is a recent and bad concoc 
tion of Tait s and the masters . But in Form nothing in the 
world helps a boy on so well as being well acquainted with 
the best-known periods of Greek and Roman history ; and to 
be able to answer a question in modern history, asked inci 
dentally, prepossesses a master wonderfully. 

Recollect that the grand secret of preparation for Rugby is 
a thorough acquaintance with Latin and Greek grammar. . . . 
Pray ask for any other Rugby hints you may wish without 
:ruple. I should think thirteen about the age, if a boy is 
iither genius nor fool. It is bad to enter in the Lower 
:hool, and, on the other hand, it is good to go through 


several forms and get some fagging. If I rightly take your 

account of , I should say that the tone I would especially 

cultivate in him would be hatred and impatience of seeing 
others bullied and opprest ; he would be too explosive to be 
submissive, and such a bias would turn his vivacity in a right 
direction, without his forfeiting the consideration among the 
rest, which may be useful in every way. I need scarcely 
suggest how history, etc., may be brought to cultivate the 
same spirit on a wider scale, nor how requisite it will be for all 
certainly not least for men of station and property in the 
coming time. I am quite convinced that robbing boys of 
manliness and making them spoonies renders their life 
wretched at school, and is fully as likely as a different course 
is to lead them into vicious habits. 

W (who once read the Kingdom of Christ, first 

edition, and calls it quite unintelligible, even to its own 
author ! !), a great friend of Harvey Goodwin, told me that at 
one time Goodwin used to employ all his wit in ridiculing 
Maurice, but that a lady of his relations who was an admirer 
of Maurice persuaded Goodwin to read his writings more care 
fully, and that for the last two years he has had a very high 
opinion of him. 

I do not understand from your letter whether you actually 
are working at botany, or wishing you could, and managing 

Master at his studies. I do not think you would find 

your eye for wholes incompatible with an eye for parts ; at 
least I do not think one predominates over the other in me. 
In fact no one can be a real naturalist who has not in a 
measure both faculties, and cannot seize the idea of a species, 
independently of technical characters. But you are the best 
judge in your own case. Macgillivray is perhaps the best for 
a beginning, and you can easily show the boy that the Linnean 
system there adopted bears little relation to the actual affinities 
of plants (which you must be able in a measure to detect), 
but it is an easy system for reference, and was in fact intended 
as no more by its great inventor. I protest most strongly 
against your attack on Gilbert White; his cant and senti- 
mentalism are those of his age ; his proneness for theory 
sometimes led him astray, but he was in general an accurate 

;E 21 


observer, wonderfully so for his time and circumstances. 
Surely Bewick generally gets as much credit as you have given 
him. He is looked on as the father of modern English 
engraving, and one of our very highest naturalist artists. 

When I read the first third of Vanity Fair, I was greatly 
disgusted ; but, as I advanced, my feeling gradually changed, 
till I strongly admired it, tho the end annoyed me. On 
the whole I think it a work of great power and purpose, 
though with by no means the dramatic genius (to say nothing 
of the sunniness) of Dickens. I thought at first that Dobbin 
was a mere copy of Tom Pinch, but I now would put it quite 
on its own ground. One would be inclined to praise the way 
in which he shows Amelia as drawn out from a mere moping, 
silly girl into something like character by her love for George 
Osborne, were it not that he most absurdly calls our attention 
to her rare and remarkable merits ( humble flowers, etc. 
etc.) at a time when he represents her, in fact, with scarcely 
any attribute that would not belong equally well to a pat of 
butter in the dog-days ; and some of the latter traits of her 
character are really wretchedly selfish. Pendennis is a vast 
improvement ; there is a good deal of wholesome truth told, 
and never in a one-sided manner. Dickens s new serial, No. i, 
very good, as far as it goes ; we shall see by and bye how it 

ns out. 

Maurice is very busy rewriting for separate publication his 
r istory of Philosophy. The Warburtonians are all delivered, 
nd are soon to be published ; they are to be startling. But 
I am anxiously expecting the Prayer-book Sermons, which are 
chiefly on Inspiration and the idea of punishment as purgation 
of sin. 

Do what you can to get hold of the May Fraser ; there are 
several good articles. First, a glorious one by Ludlow (a 
secret, mind you) on the Nemesis, . . . then a capital 
homely letter of T. Carlyle on Indian Meal. 

I have not read F. Newman s book ; it seems weak ; and I 

r Maurice has now no opinion of him. I have read his 
other s Loss and Gain; it is very painful in the early part 

m the sneers at the Prayer-book, etc., but it rises out of 
at, and is John Henry Newman all over. With all its faults 


and dangerousness, it is a fine book, and much may be 
learnt from it. 

Sara Coleridge has republisht part of the two first volumes 
of the Literary Remains, with some other scraps, as Lectures 
on the Dramatists, etc. 

Macmillan has lent me a MS. written at Maurice s request 
some years ago, being a picture of the state of mind of young 
Scotchmen some sixteen years ago. Accompanying it is a 
long autograph letter of Maurice s, valuable and beautiful 
beyond measure ; possibly I may copy it, if possible, but it is 
strange that so good a man should write so bad a hand. I 
hear he has a high idea of J. S. Mill, for his unflinching 
honesty and fairness. J. W. Parker told Macmillan that Mill 
had said to him that the only positive addition to philosophy 
since Kant was Maurice s History of Philosophy. 

At last I proposed Macaulay at the Union. The terms were 
"that the two first volumes of Mr. Macaulay s History of 
England are utterly wanting in the most essential characteristics 
of a great history." I took entirely the ground of his bad 
principles, and was rapturously cheered, tho I spoke for an 
hour and a quarter ; at eleven we adjourned. The week after 
we again had a good debate, but it was not over till eleven, 

and had cleared the house by speaking; so that the 

numbers were very small, and it went quite against me. He 
himself was here from the previous Saturday to Monday, and 
I was afraid he would stay and come to the debate. 


CAMBRIDGE, July i$th, 1849. 

. . . Before I speak of anything else I know you will be 
burning to know something of Maurice s sermons. They came 
out on Friday week, and I immediately secured a copy for 
you, expecting the edition to be off soon. But I had a vague 

idea that you would be about this time away from , and 

in the lazy, idle, selfish mood I have been in for some time, 
did not take the trouble to search for your letter. But now I 
have found it, and suppose you are back again, and therefore 


herewith send the book by the same post. They are, in my 
mind, not in general equal to the Lord s Prayer. But that 
on the Songs of the Church and the last four are wonderful. 

I am on the whole not sorry that you use Lilly s and not 
Kennedy s Latin Grammar, for I think the latter has English 
rules ; and though I know not the former, I am sure that in 
spite of some mere mechanical rote repetitions, infinite good 
is conferred by constant use of the rigid Latin rules. Of 
course you parse unceasingly ; it is irksome work to you both, 
but infinitely important. 

... I scarcely know how to answer you about Gilbert 
hite, for I never read him through, and I have not looked 
at him for a long while. Certainly if he took up his natural 
history pursuits merely as a selfish amusement to kill time, and 
if he neglected the parish which he had undertaken, I cannot 
refuse to condemn him. But I am not sure that I understand 
the meaning of what you consider his rightful function. It is 
perhaps not inappropriate to apply the title a commissioned 
expounder of God s name to the world to an honest and 
hearty naturalist; but if you mean it that Gilbert White neglected 
his trust because he wrote only of natural objects as natural 
objects, and did not seek to draw lessons from them, to make 
them the mystical oracles of moral principles to others, I 
iffer from you toto ccelo. Such impressions may be suggested 

the observer himself, but I doubt whether they can be 
municated to others without dishonesty and genuine 
sttcism. A few sentences from the Kingdom of Christ will 
illustrate what I mean. 

[Then follows a quotation from Maurice s Kingdom of Christ^ 2nd ed. 
1. ii. part ii. pp. 420, 422.] 


Much of this refers to quite a different notion, but I cannot 
separate it from its condemnation of what I fear may be your 
meaning. An honest student of nature must, I think, make 
physical principles the object of his search. If he be able 

I -~ides to apply his researches to moral ends, as in some of 
Igwick s orations, well and good ; but he must not suppose 
t this is the aim of his science, else he will degrade and 
ify both. I often think of a passage in Maurice (I forget 


where) where he revels in the thought of the advance of 
knowledge^ and looks with delight to the time when every 
object, from the meanest moss or insect to the lordliest work 
of creation, shall be seen, each after its kind, in its true place 
and order and in perfect fulness of vision. I take my stand 
on Bacon s glorious words : Nos autem non Capitolium aliquod 
aut pyramidem hominum superbicz dedicamus aut condimus, sed 
templum sanctum ad exemplar mundi in intellectu humano 
fundamus. Itaque exemplar sequimur. Nam quicquid essentia 
dignum est, id etiam scientia dignum ; quce est essentice imago. 
Further, even though one were not to add to the sum of 
existing knowledge of Natural Science by writing, one may, I 
think, feel that it is not selfish enjoyment merely, if one finds 
it and uses it as a beneficial agent to one s mind, if that mind 
be in other subjects and occupations devoted to true work. 
But enough of this sermonising, which after all may have been 

The present Fraser has the beginning of a delightful article 
on North Devon by Kingsley. Maurice was married at the 
beginning of the month, took a brief honey-half-moon at 
Torquay, and was then obliged to resume his collegiate and 
other duties in London ; as soon as he is released from them, 
he goes to take the parish next to Kingsley s (who has now 
returned to Eversley) for a month. I fear there is but little 
chance of his coming hither. 

The Epigrams cost me very little trouble, having been 
resolved on, thought out, composed, and written out between 
evening chapel and a private business meeting at the Union ; 
still, inter nos, they were twice as good as those which got the 
prize, though no great shakes. Since then I have written for 
and missed the College English Essay. I scarcely read a 
word for it, and, as usual, wrote more than half the last day ; 
and it was not long or minute, but crude and ungrammatical ; 
still methinks not quite nonsense. Mackenzie got it, as he 
probably deserved. 

I am not so sanguine as you about the new Classical Tripos 
regulations, except in so far that they are generally looked on 
as temporary, and I hope we may finally get a thorough 
searching examination in classics, mathematics, and divinity, 



which all must pass, leaving honours as an unnecessary supple 
ment. But unequal and unfair as are the respective treatments 
of classics and mathematics, I believe the equalising them by 
the exemption of classics from a mathematical qualification 
would be an infinite worse to the University, and especially 
to its classics. 

I have scarcely looked at Ruskin yet. I am afraid of his 
getting into a mere cant phraseology ; the more to be dreaded 
that he seems fond of saying things that may produce a great 
effect, and strike the reader with their unfathomable profundity ; 
still he is doubtless an admirable man. As far as I see, his 
great fault is his endeavouring to interpret symbols into 
intellectual notions. Now this, though at first sight it may 
seem most completely opposed to the vulgar notion of beauty 
as something having no real absolute existence except as that 
which is pleasing to the eye, is really an offshoot, springing 
lower and deeper down from the same root ; for it tacitly 
assumes that whatever is spiritual, has a substantive existence, 
and is communicable from spirit to spirit, must be capable 
of interpretation into intellectual ideas, and therefore into 
language, which is their exponent ; whereas it seems to me 
most important to assert that beauty is not merely a phase 
or (as Sterling calls it) the body of truth, but has its own 
distinct essence and is communicable through its own media, 
independently of those of truth. And hence that forms of 
beauty are valuable (to use a word which most imperfectly 
conveys my meaning), not as sensuous exponents of those 
forms of truth which are emanations from Him who is the 
Perfect Truth, but as themselves emanations from Him who 
is the Perfect Beauty. I am afraid this is misty, but I cannot 
express myself more clearly. 



/, 1849. 

. . Your mention of the offertory reminds me that 
Igwick, who has from paucity of dons had often to read 
ic Communion Service on Sundays, has proved the most 


rubrical of all, for he always read, " Let your light shine," etc, ! 
A propos of the brave old fellow, he has just finished his 
Preface, and made it tremendously long. Item he has nearly 
finisht a big book on the primary strata, especially of the S. 
of Scotland, so that he will escape the inglorious fate of the 
greatest of pioneers, and leave something for his name to stick 
to when his gigantic, nameless labours have been forgotten. 
How it would have done poor Mark s l heart good to have 
known it, perhaps he does know it ! ! 

I quite feel all you say about Claverhouse ; at least he had 
in an eminent degree one virtue, for it is a God -like virtue, 
let the Manchesterians say what they will, loyalty. It is fast 
disappearing. When it is gone, may God protect England, for 
she will need it as she never has done. 

KESWICK, August 

I don t know how - got his notion of my missing the 
Greek Testament prize from doctrinally annoying the examiners. 
It may be so ; but I believe not. My inability to muster the 
requisite caput]mortuum of cram was the real reason, I have no 
doubt. The Ecclesiastical History paper was full of doctrine 
which I answered unreservedly ; yet I was all but first in that 

You will be amused and perhaps not displeased to hear 
that Clough was seen on the walls of Rome fighting in Gari 
baldi s army ; that does not look like stagnation. And if he 
has survived, I trust he may indeed be a living worker in the 
coming time. 

I was very sorry to hear Manning s opinion of Hare. It 
may, however, be some counterpoise to you to know that a 
stranger calling on the Macmillans, told them that he had 
travelled per rail with a clergyman (unknown) with whom he 
had conversed on theological subjects, and who had recom 
mended him to read Maurice s Kingdom as a most valuable 
book. On separating he gave him his card Ven. Arch 
deacon Manning ! ! He sees, what so few do see, the 
tremendous chasm of opinion on Church matters that separates 
Maurice from Hare. 

1 Mark Howard, a friend who had recently died. 

AGE 21 



I have been here nearly a week, and am of course in a 
great state of enjoyment. I coached from Windermere station 
(between Bowness and Troutbeck), and had a most glorious 
drive. One or two beautiful Early English churches are just 
built about Kendal and that neighbourhood (the only true 
style, I think, for a mountainous district of this nature). The 
Pikes were as grand as ever ; in short, everything about that 
exquisite view was in perfection. My father has been greatly 
tempted to fix us permanently in a house beautifully situated 
at the foot of Skiddaw two and a half miles hence, with, I 
verily believe, the grandest view in the Lakes, but there are 
many objections. . . . On Sunday morning we went to St. 
John s Church (F. Myers ), built by one of the Marshall legion. 
I was struck at the beginning of the sermon by some beauti 
ful expressions, somewhat Arnoldian, and certainly neither 
evangelical nor belonging to any other form of ordinary 
theology. Unfortunately I was very sleepy, but heard much 
good matter in the most exquisite and felicitous language. 
Imagine my annoyance in finding that I had been listening 
without recognition to Arthur Penrhyn Stanley ! 

I am most anxious to set you right, as I have done myself, 
on a point on which we have both erred grievously in ignorance,, 
viz. in regard to G. Sand. At Macmillan s persuasion, I at 
last read Consnelo and its sequel, La Comtesse de Rudolstadt^ 
and am most truly grateful to him for making me read them. 
The former is a most exquisite pure tale. It is much like 
Wilhelm Meister, softened and smoothed down and purified, 
in the strictest sense intellectual, and yet not originating 
intellectual ideas as the German tale does. Music is in a 
great measure the theme and the relation of art (represented 
by music) to human life and affections. Love of course fills 
a prominent part. Nor can I recall any falsehoods on that 
score in Consuelo, and there is much precious truth. The 
Communistic idea appears quite in the bud, scarcely separating 
itself from the true idea of brotherhood which it mimics. There 
are most strange accounts of mediaeval German heretics (for 
whom G. Sand has a great affection, as a sort of anticipators 
of Communism), chiefly Hussites, worshippers of Satan, whose 
chief formula of benediction was, Que celui a qui Pon a fait tort. 


te salue^ meaning thereby that before-mentioned worthy. The 
second part was evidently written much later. It shows its 
author s mind much confused and agitated, with the strangest 
mixture of superstition and scepticism, genuine faith and cold 
negation. It is full of strange mysterious incidents, much 
connected with the Rosicrucians, Freemasons, and In 
visibles, a sort of secretest society to which the Masons 
formed a sort of outer court, Communism being the grand 
secret and the object of all. There are near the end some 
sublime passages on the subject which underlies every page, 
love, full of glorious assertions, but drawing the saddest and 
wildest conclusions. There is not the smallest trace of the 
notion of a community of women, as I had imagined; but 
G. Sand declares marriage to be an unnatural bondage, never 
undertaken for love. Nevertheless, Balaam-like, she makes her 
facts often assert God s truth above her lies. One thing is 
very striking in the aspect of Communism which she presents. 
Property as such and political privileges never appear ; social life 
is the subject; she wishes that each may receive his own culture, 
and do his own work for himself and for others unoppressed 
and unrestrained by kings and priests. She is most bitter 
against Voltaire and the * common- sense philosophy of 
Lok (as she calls him), and all who like him virtually think 
faith degrading and mysteries an insult to human reason. But 
she is most relentless to the Church for having been the 
enemy of humanity, for crushing what it ought to have edu 
cated. O that her charges were false ! and yet no ! then 
we could have little hope for the future. Our task it is to do 
what in us lies to make the Church the very truest and fullest 
exponent of humanity. By all means read the books, and in 
the original, if you can get hold of them. There is not a 
rag of French frippery, scarcely a trace of French prejudice 
about them. 

When you are next at a railway station, expend one shilling 
upon a volume of the Parlour Library called Emilia Wyndham. 
It is quiet, unadorned, perhaps somewhat dull ; but full of 
much high and beautiful principle, and an excellent corrective 
and complement to the moral of the end of The Nemesis of 
Faith. I do trust you have been able, or will be able, to see 



Copperfield and Pendennis. The former is (excepting the 
August number, which is dull) exceedingly beautiful, with 
much extravagance pruned off. Without in the least ceasing 
to be Dickens, he has learnt much from Thackeray. The 
latter s tale, though not so pleasant, is invaluable. To me the 
surest sign of its worth is that I never read anything which so 
really and completely humbled me, which made conscience 
so painfully importunate, while at the same time it did not in 
any great degree encourage churlishness and uncharitableness, 
as was the tendency of Vanity Fair. There are of course 
imperfections and affectations ; but a more faithful picture of 
what we, we especially, would wish to blink, I never 


KESWICK, September nth, 1849. 
... I forgot the other day to ask you whether you had 
seen some time ago a very curious decision of the French 
Government, refusing to recognise the French Protestants as 
having a religion which they could tolerate, on the ground 
that there could be no religion without a sacrifice. 

I look forward with great anxiety to the decision of the 
Privy Council s committee, 1 though one may expect strange 
things from a theological judgment of Lord Brougham s. It 
is said that, if the judgment of the Court below be affirmed, 
hundreds of clergy meditate secession. I trust this is not the 
case. It is very sad that things should have come to such a 
pass that a judicial verdict is inevitable, which must consign 
one or the other class of opinions to not merely actual but 
legal heterodoxy. 


AMBLESIDE, September 27 th, 1849. 

. . . You will of course have Maurice s wonderful sermons 2 
this time ; if not, you will want to know about them. I 
>uld not well give you a tolerable account of them in even a 
loderately small space ; I will only say at present that they 

1 In the Gorham case. 2 On the Prayer-book. 



are invaluable indeed. The subjects that we before mentioned 
are treated of only incidentally, but there are some very preg 
nant hints. I only wish there were more. The two last, on 
The Consecration Prayer (in the H. Communion) and 
The Eucharist, are grand beyond expression. If you have 
not been in a position to get the book, pray write by return 
of post, and I will do my best to give you some fuller 


AMBLESIDE, October $th, 1849. 

. . . We can talk about English reading for the youthful 
Alexander when we meet. You certainly seem to have 
played Aristotle with success hitherto. I crave your pardon 
for accusing you of a wish to moralise everything. I feel the 
temptation so often and so strongly myself, in spite of my 
vehement sense of the inherent holiness of every branch of 
thought, that I am made suspicious of the same thing in 
others. I fear that in a subtle form it discoloured Arnold s 
mind. Meanwhile, without saying more, I must raise my 
voice loudly against Pope s Homer. The possible advantages 
are great, but the dangers are incalculably greater. 

Dreadful as war is, I cannot say that I shrink from it, if 
undertaken in such a cause as that of Turkey. It seems in 
evitable now. 

Crosthwaite Church is hideous, being a compound of every 
century since the Debased. Much expense has been lately in 
curred in fitting up stalls, putting in excellent painted glass, 
but all to no purpose in such a fabric. I was not much struck 
by Southey s monument, but did not see it well. 

I forget whether I noticed to you Hook s noble freedom 
from party spirit and brave honesty in standing forward alone 
among his friends publicly to support the Marriage Bill. I 
find that some years ago Wilberforce (I suppose Samuel W.) 
urged on him the evil of party spirit. Hook contended that 
it was absolutely necessary to have a party, and to act as a 
member of one. Maurice, hearing this, publisht a letter to 
Wilberforce on the subject. Hook then wrote to Wilberforce 

;E 21 


to say that Maurice s letter had quite convinced him, and 
ice then he has never done a factious action. 

since t 


CAMBRIDGE, November 2nd, 1849. 

My dearest Mother It seems quite as long to me as to 
you since we separated. . . . On Tuesday all lectures, examina 
tions, and coaches began, and ever since I have been like 
the donkey in the mill at Carisbrook Castle, grinding on in a 
perpetual round of mathematics. When I can keep awake in 
the evening, I read from seven to eight hours in the day (ex 
aminations included), but I always get my walk, almost 
always the full two hours trot. I have four examinations per 
week, and towards the end of the month the College adds on 
another per week. Meanwhile you will be glad to hear that I 
have secured Westcott 1 for classics between January 2oth and 
February lyth. 

... It would of course be impossible for you to dry 
brambles at Cheltenham, but, if you ever get to the lanes, I 
should be much obliged if you would notice them. The most 
common one there, I know, is Rubus discolor^ which I did not 
see in the Lakes. Its leaves are quite white underneath. 

Babington has only turned over, not examined, my Lake 
brambles as yet. I had a walk with him to-day, and he tells 
me that my Buttermere Potamogeton is most probably what I 
supposed, viz. P. fluitans, which has not before been found in 
Britain. He says it is smaller than the continental plant, but 
it is certainly not one of the known British species. I have 
not missed morning chapel more than four or five times. 


CAMBRIDGE, November qth, 1849. 

. . Alford has published the first volume of his Greek 
"estament. It seems good, and not superstitious. 

1 i.e. as private coach. 


TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE [November i6th, 1849]. 

My dear Sir It is with considerable hesitation that I 
venture to trespass upon your time, already so fully employed. 
I am not even able to plead acquaintance as a warrant for so 
doing. Only a most hearty sense of inestimable benefits 
already received leads me to hope for fresh assistance from the 
same source. And in this respect I have perhaps some claim 
upon you. Had it been your aim to make us your disciples, we 
must have been content to swallow whatever crumbs it might 
please you to scatter; but since you have chosen rather to 
guide us in to the old ways which God made, and not you, 
surely the aid you have already given is a pledge of your 
willingness to assist us again and again in discerning the eternal 
order among all the confusions that beset us, and to bear with 
the perverseness which, more than anything else, blinds our 
eyes. I have therefore resolved to ask you to guide me, if 
you can, to a satisfactory solution of a question which has 
long been tormenting me, and which seems now to be felt 
universally to be of very great moment indeed, if we may 
judge from the warmth and passion which both sides display. 
I mean, the question whether any man will be hereafter 
punished with never-ending torments, spiritual or physical. 

It would be far too much to say that I do not believe that 
any man will, for I dare not rashly and hastily discard a convic 
tion entertained by nearly all Christians, and sanctioned, as it 
appears to me, by such plain language in the Gospels and 
Apocalypse, as well as in our Liturgy and the Athanasian 
Creed. There is, moreover, this great difficulty in the rejec 
tion of the common opinion : we see men becoming more 
hardened in impenitence every year of their lives, even till 
death itself. If there be any further state of probation beyond 
the grave, it will still be monstrous to suppose the sin re 
moved suddenly from their hearts by an almighty Fiat without 
a corresponding willingness on their part; such a notion is 
utterly at variance with the idea of a spirit endowed with a 
will. But how otherwise can we be sure of their becoming 



purer ? There is no more reason why they should repent then 
than there was when they were on earth ; nay, there is less, 
for the longer they exist the harder they may become ; they 
must retain the power of choosing the evil, or they cease to 
have wills. Many would say that pain and suffering will 
purify them ; but the notion that this result must ensue owes 
its existence to a false material analogy drawn from the purga 
tion of the passive gold from its dross by the action of fire. 
If we could believe sin, as some virtually do, to be merely the 
shadowy antecedent of the substantial consequent, pain, and 
heaven to consist in unlimited selfish enjoyment, not a whit 
purer than a Mahometan Paradise for the supposed absence 
of its sensual element, then there might be little difficulty in 
supposing men after a certain period to be tossed, sins and all, 
into such a sty of bliss. But, as we believe heaven to be 
the fullest communion with God in His most immediate 
presence, and the fullest disposition and power to be always 
working His Will, none but those who have been separated 
from their sin can possibly enter into its joys. For others 
there would seem to be only two alternatives an eternal curse, 
and annihilation. I have never been able to see the alleged 
inconsistency in this latter notion ; surely what God has 
originated, God can destroy, be it spirit or matter; yet I 
cannot get rid of a feeling that men never are annihilated. 

But, on the other hand, not only are the Epistles almost 
free (as far as I can recollect) from allusions to everlasting 
torments, but their whole tone is such that the introduction of 
such a notion would seem to render it discordant and jarring. 
And little as I like to rest on isolated texts, I cannot get over 
the words, "As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be 
made -alive." St. Paul cannot mean merely the universal 
redemption, for he uses the future tense conformably to the 
whole tenor of the chapter, and is, moreover, speaking of the 
resurrection ; further, the same universality is given to the one 
clause as to the other. 

Again, where is the answer to the common question, " You 
say that some go to heaven, some to hell ; then you must suppose 
a line separating the two sets of men, but the gradations are 
infinite. There can be but little difference between the worst 


of the former class, and the best of the latter. How can you 
make their future lots so immeasurably different ? " Paley, I 
hear [? fear], replies that we have no reason for believing that 
there fs much difference between the lowest place in heaven and 
the highest in hell ! ! This answer only brings out the difficulty 
in greater distinctness. Say, if we will, that the language here 
employed indicates a corrupt notion of merit of works done 
just exceeding or just falling short of the price which God has 
affixed to His merchandise, heaven ; still we are as far as 
ever from justifying God s ways. Every one is perpetually 
falling ; the difference is but slight between him who falls at 
last utterly away, and him who just succeeds in not losing 
hold of his Lord. And what of those who die while oscillating 
in the midst ? 

Nor do I see how to dissent from the equally common 
Universalist objection, that finite sins cannot deserve an 
infinite punishment. The language may be technical and 
savouring of mere abstractions, but, I am sure, the feeling 
which finds utterance in it is real and conscientious enough. 
I do not think you would look with much favour on the 
answer given a few Sundays ago from the pulpit of St. Mary s 
by a Hulsean lecturer. We were told that the mere inquiry 
was presumptuous ; that " we know absolutely nothing at all " 
(I quote as nearly verbatim as I can from memory) " of God s 
nature, or any of His attributes " ; " nor is there any reason 
for believing that when the Bible speaks of the goodness, 
justice, and mercy of God, it means anything which bears any 
rezemblance to what we call justice, goodness, and mercy." 
So that the way to defend what is presumed to be an essential 
doctrine of Christianity is by denying the fact of a revelation, 
in any living sense of the word ! for what is the revelation of a 
Hell ? I know that the great mass of those against whom the 
Hulsean lecturer was contending is greatly infected by the 
disbelief in the existence of retributive justice, which is now so 
widely spread through nearly all classes of people, especially 
in regard to social and political questions, which causes even 
men, whose theology teaches them to look upon God as a vin 
dictive, lawless autocrat, to stigmatise as cruel and heathenish 
the belief that criminal law is bound to contemplate in punish- 


ment other ends beside the improvement of the offender him 
self and the deterring of others. Still the consciousness of 
this fact can only make it incumbent on us to examine our 
ground carefully, it cannot require us to surrender a truth, 
if it be a truth, merely because it is now the property of 
scarcely any but such as have become heretics while re 
volting against the popular creed. One answer has sometimes 
suggested itself as more plausible than that mentioned above ; 
namely, that the sin is not finite but infinite, in virtue of the 
fact of its continued self- reproduction that is, that the 
punishment of past sin is increased sin, deserving in its turn 
fresh punishment. And yet surely the heart rebels against 
such a theory as a cruel mockery of the very essential spirit of 
justice; only here lies the difficulty is not this theory 
merely the expression of a fact, which, however we may 
dispute about it, is a fact still? does not God punish sin by 
making men sin afresh ? And now, having reached this 
point, I scarcely know where to go on and where to end, for 
hither converge multitudes of distracting questions, pervading 
every region of theology, to which I have never been able to 
find any answer but this " God is, and Evil is ; both alike 
testify their own reality. If the Christian faith does not 
harmonise them, at least it is therein not more unsuccessful 
than all human theories; for those which have seemed to 
solve the riddle, have merely denied the facts, and contra 
dicted the testimony of their whole being." Yet I am confident 
that there must be some deeper answer than this mere con 
fession of ignorance some more intelligent way of resisting 
the horrible Manichseism which, under both its primary and 
its secondary forms, is in a thousand dissimilar ways torturing 
and tempting our hearts and consciences every hour of the 
day, than the mere ban (potent though that may happily 
sometimes be) 

Receive it not, believe it not, 
Believe it not, O man ! 

Thus there is the question of Substituted Punishment, 
which, as it seems to me, is quite distinct from the Atonement 
and reconciliation of the person of sinning man and God. I 
can at most times thankfully contemplate the fact of God s 


forgiveness (in the strict sense of the word ; that is, removal 
of estrangement from the offender, irrespective of the non- 
enforcement of penalties) and His delight in humanity as 
restored through its Head; but surely this has little to do 
with the principle that every offence must receive its just 
recompense. The Father may forgive the child, and yet 
cannot justly exempt him from the punishment of disobedience. 
" Amen ! " says the evangelical ; " the penalty must be paid 
somehow by somebody. The penalty is tortures to all eternity 
for each man. Christ, in virtue of the infinity which He 
derived from His Godhead, was able on earth to suffer 
tortures more than equivalent to the sum of the eternal 
tortures to be suffered by all mankind ; God must have the 
tortures to satisfy His justice, but was not particular as to who 
was to suffer them, was quite willing to accept Christ s 
sufferings in lieu of mankind s sufferings." O that Coleridge, 
while showing how the notion of a fictitious substituted 
righteousness, of a transferable stock of good actions, obscured 
the truth of man s restoration in the Man who perfectly acted 
out the idea of man, had expounded the truth (for such, I am 
sure, there must be) that underlies the corresponding heresy 
(as it appears to me) of a fictitious substituted penalty ! All my 
reverence and gratitude to him who first taught me to love light 
and to seek after truth, believing that it is God s will that we 
should attain them, and that He Himself will guide us into 
them, cannot make me see much beside dimness (as far as the 
present question is concerned) in the note at p. 239 of the 
Aids (fifth edition). Nor, as far as I can recollect, have you 
anywhere written explicitly upon this point; even on the 
corresponding subject of vicarious righteousness I know only 
of two pages (Kingdom of Christ, ist edition, vol. i. pp. 32, 
33), and they have not been able to make me feel assured 
that the language of imputation is strictly true, however 
sanctioned by St. Paul s example. The fact is, I do not see 
how God s justice can be satisfied without every marts suffering 
in his own person the full penalty for his sins. I know that it 
can, for if it could not in the case of some at least, the whole 
Bible would be a lie ; but if in the case of some , why not of all? 
A reconciliation of the person may be dependent, at least in 


its realization, upon its acceptance on the part of the will ; but 
how does this apply to the suffering of penalties ? 

Again, how is the notion that God punishes sin by sin 
consistent with the belief that God is not and cannot be the 
author of evil ? Is there not something strangely significant 
in the extraordinary language of Coleridge in the last four 
lines of p. 194 of the Literary Remains, vol. i. ? The texts 
cited go for little, but surely the superficial meaning which 
Coleridge seems to put upon them is inconsistent with a 
sound theology. 

The discussion which immediately precedes these four lines 
naturally leads to another enigma most intimately connected 
with that of everlasting penalties, namely, that of the person 
ality of the devil. It was Coleridge who some three years 
ago first raised any doubts in my mind on the subject doubts 
which have never yet been at all set at rest, one way or the 
other. You yourself are very cautious in your language; 
much of it is such as a person, who was convinced of the 
truth of the common opinion, would be unlikely to use. 
The only positive principle, as far as I can see, that you assert 
is this, that " evil, though by its nature multiform and contra 
dictory, has nevertheless a central root." This certainly is 
most important ; it seems as if it must be so in the nature 
of things, if only we presuppose the existence of things that 
are evil, as facts compel us to do. But the question still 
remains Is this central root personal or not? Can the 
power of origination be in strict truth ascribed to anything 
except a will ? On the other hand, surely the continuity of 
life (or existence neither word exactly expresses my meaning) 
of a person depends directly on the operation of the Word, 
unless with the Manichaeans we set up two grounds of being. 
Now if there be a devil, he cannot merely bear a corrupted 
and marred image of God ; he must be wholly evil, his name 
evil, his every energy and act evil. Would it not be a viola 
tion of the divine attributes for the Word to be actively the 
support of such a nature as that ? And so in the present day 
many avoid the difficulty by the monstrous fiction of a re 
generated devil. Thus the author of Festus (as I am told, 
for I have not read the poem) supposes him finally restored 


through the medium of a genuine human affection ! But 
does not this suggest that no image but God s image is 
possible for a person ? May I take this opportunity of asking 
what you mean (in Kingdom of Christ, first edition, vol. i. p. 
45) by the phrase, " The satisfaction offered to the evil spirit, 
by giving up to him all that he can rightly claim, while all 
that is real and precious is redeemed out of his hands " ? 

There is yet another subject of the utmost importance, 
which is intimately mixed up with every point to which I have 
alluded indeed the Manichsean controversy embraces and 
combines them all I mean, the opposition of the flesh 
and Spirit which the Bible speaks of. This, I suppose, is the 
truth caricatured in the ascription of Evil to matter ; but still 
I cannot see where the truth differs from the most deadly 
falsehood. Only the expressions used by both you and 
Coleridge respecting nature as essentially evil, seem to 
point to a wish for isolation that is, a hankering after 
assimilation to mere spiritless creatures, as the most especial 
characteristic of moral evil. It is easy to see that there is a 
close relation between this idea and that (whatever it may be) 
which underlies sacrifice, the prohibition of the eating of the 
blood, circumcision and its abolition, and finally St. Paul s 
mysterious words, "Without shedding of blood there is no 
remission of sins." But I have labored so utterly in vain to 
apprehend in any measure what this idea is, that I hope you 
will deepen and widen the hints you have already given. 

I am quite conscious that I have given but few distinct 
objections to the common belief in what I have written, but 
so indeed it must be ; language cannot accurately define the 
twinge of shrinking horrour which mixes with my thoughts 
when I hear the popular notion asserted (even without the 
blasphemous adjuncts which too often accompany it), and it 
is hard to ascribe all this feeling to sentimental weakness and 
the prevailing Pantheism which (it must be confessed in 
humiliation) most dangerously assaults those who pride them 
selves most on their freedom from it. Certainly in my case 
it proceeds from no personal dread ; when I have been living 
most godlessly, I have never been able to frighten myself 
with visions of a distant future, even while I held the 


doctrine. But hereafter to proclaim it as part of the Good 
Tidings, this is the paradox ! If it be not part of them, and 
yet be true, it must belong to the Law. But where do we 
find it in that Old Testament, which many reject as so cruel ? 
And that the doctrine was previously unknown is tacitly 
asserted by those champions of Christianity who think it the 
very cream of the Gospel. There is also surely something 
significant in the fact of St. Augustin s never having been 
able to free himself from quasi-purgatorial notions. It is, to 
say the least of it, as reasonable to suppose that his early 
struggles enabled him to be more sensitive than other men to 
the virus stealing over every region of truth from the fearful 
heresy which he had escaped, as to slight his feelings as 
those of one who recoiled violently from one error into the 

I should never have done, were I to enter on all the mani 
fold difficulties which I find rising up daily against me on 
both sides of these questions. This letter is already quite 
disorderly and incoherent enough; but if I attempted to 
methodise it, it would probably lose whatever genuine con 
nection now subsists between the several topics. I should 
not have troubled you with them had I not felt that a mere 
notional answer to isolated questions would be useless ; only 
by writing on such a series of kindred points could I enable 
you to separate mere speculation from real conviction. I 
hope I desire not opinions but light. Busy as you are, I hope 
you will suit your own convenience about writing ; it is quite 
enough of a tax upon you to trouble you at all, only the 
infinite importance to myself must be my excuse. Believe 
me, my dear sir, most affectionately yours, 



CAMBRIDGE, November 30^, 1849. 

... I wrote two or three weeks ago to Maurice a letter 
asking help on Universalism, Sathanas, blood, and heaven knows 
what else besides. I have received from him a long and most 


magnificent I need not say, most kind letter, 1 which you shall 
see in a few days. And what I value most of all, he hopes I 
will write to him often, and call on him when I am in London. 
For the present A Dieu. 


CAMBRIDGE, Christmas Day, 1849. 

I had fully intended that you should have a line this day 
to wish you all the manifold blessings of this ever blessed 
season. But the ceaseless whirl of reading carried me round, 
and I forgot it. 

It was with the greatest difficulty that I screwed out time 
to write to Maurice ; and that I should have deferred, but that 
the question was daily driving me mad. His letter shall either 
accompany or follow close upon this. W. Howard has it now ; 
and I have promised to lend it to Blunt (who is down for 
three or four days) to make one or two extracts from before I 
forward it to you. These two, the two Macmillans, and a 
noble-hearted friend of theirs, a Mr. Gotobed, an uneasy 
Dissenter, are the only persons who have seen the letter ; and 
I have no idea of showing it to any more. ... I shall send 
with it my epistle, not that you may spy out its nakedness, but 
because the letter is scarcely fully intelligible without it. 

January igtA, 1850. 

Your letter has just found me in a sick room. ... I worked 
on tolerably well up to the examination, and passed the three 
days seemingly without fatigue, in spite of two nights nearly 
sleepless with reading. But I felt my throat sore on the 
Saturday night, and the next day got up late quite ill, and sent 
for Humphry in the evening. He was puzzled. My throat 
soon got worse and became ulcerated ; and on Tuesday he 
pronounced it decided, tho slight, scarlatina. My father 
and mother came up on Thursday night (and stayed till last 
Tuesday), not from there being anything approaching danger 

1 See Maurice s Life, vol. ii. pp. 15-23. 

AGE 21 



(I was up some part of every day) but to relieve my mother s 
anxiety. Meanwhile I am fast recovering, only delicate, 
the worst of scarlatina being the extraordinary susceptibility to 
any disorder which it leaves behind it. The cold weather has 
not given me a chance of getting out ; and here I am domiciled 
in my sitting-room with a venerable nurse, biding my time, and 
arranging plants, for I am very little in a reading humour. In 
the * three days l 1 did tolerably, not altogether to my satisfac 
tion, and yet in a satisfactory way, with a large proportion of 
riders in short, enough to show me that, if I had not most 
culpably idled and played with mathematics all my course, I 
should have taken a high degree. Now tho the three days 
had exclusively been my work for the last term, they were by 
no means my cheval de bataille ; and I had counted on the 
intervening week for refreshing myself in Differential, etc. etc., 
and looking up a few new calculations; and tho the five days 
papers have been hard, I think I should have shoved into the 
Wranglers. But Deo aliter visum. I much fear my three days 
work will not obtain me a Senior Op., which will lose me an 
all but certain Chancellor s Medal ; still, though disposed 
enough to murmur, I know it is most wrong. I should be 
thankful that my illness came on after the three days, so that 
I am still left the Classical Tripos. 

My father is very anxious that I should try for a Fellowship. 
I don t know what to say, for my chance is very small. West- 
lake will smash me to atoms in mathematics, even tho I 
read them still, as I intend doing ; and he is not at all to be 
despised in the Moral paper. Still the thought pleases me, 
and I shall probably read Moral Philosophy when the Tripos 
is over, like anything. I understand from Romilly that a 
grace will probably be introduced this term to admit our year 
to the New Triposes 2 of 1851 ; if it passes, I shall probably go 
in for both, which will involve much reading. I have also had 
dreams of the Crosse, but I am so ignorant of Hebrew and, 
what is worse, of the Greek text of the N. T., that I have all 
but discarded them. Still I have, as you see, so much before 
me, that I don t know what to say to the Hulsean. The 

1 The first, or qualifying part of the Mathematical Tripos. 
2 In Natural and Moral Sciences. 


subject is tempting, but it will require a great deal of out-of- 
the-way reading. 

I am very glad you have fixed on a curacy, since I do not 
pretend to judge what you are best qualified to decide, namely, 

as to leaving . Your neighbourhood is, I should think, 

delightful. But, man alive, what do you mean by supposing 
I shall think you are embracing Might duty ? I should 
think you will have abundance to do if the parish is to be well 
worked. As for huge town populations, they must be under 
taken, if God puts them before us, but as for doing one s duty 
to all as one would wish, the thing is simply impossible. But 
I am sure you will not think little of the school ; it is worth 
more than a deal of cottage visiting. One thing more : 
generalising hastily from a few Morning Chronicle letters, I 
should say the country generally is more wretched and godless 
than the towns (excepting London and its appurtenances). 

... I have alluded once or twice to the Morning Chronicle. 
I suppose you know that it is employing able and honest agents 
to examine thoroughly the state of Labour and the Poor in 
the manufacturing, rural, and metropolitan districts ; reporting 
from official returns, from ocular inspection, and from the 
accounts of both masters and men. They are lavishing large 
sums on it, and have set apart a department of the office to it. 
The clerks work at it voluntarily at extra hours, and refuse to re 
ceive extra pay for such work. The early letters not having been 
noticed, and many persons wishing to possess the whole, they 
began on December 2 ist to publish gratis bi-weekly supplements 
to contain a reprint of all letters that had appeared previously 
to that date. Meanwhile there is a fresh letter every day. I 
regularly take in a half-price copy, which I mean to bind up. 
Maurice values the letters so highly that, occupied as his time is, 
he has the paper regularly sent him and reads the letter every 
morning. Kingsley also, I heard, wanted to get a daily copy 
to keep. It is on this subject that the article in Fraser is, and 
it is by Ludlow ; Macmillan praises it immensely, but I have 
not read it. The same number contains a most noble article 
of Kingsley s on * Sir E. B. L. Bulwer and Mrs. Grundy, sug 
gested by Sir E. B. L. s last, The Caxtons, a most delightful and, 
on the whole, healthy story, which gave me very great pleasure. 

AGE 21 



There are three or four dull spirts at Coleridge and Cole- 
ridgians in the English Review, but the article to which you 
allude is rich in the extreme. It begins with an attack on 
Maurice s vanity, on his shallow criticism, and weakness. He 
is, it seems, a clever sort of person whom it tickles to write 
books, which might be readable, only he will write on theology 
and philosophy ; and unfortunately intellect is just what Mr. 
Maurice does not possess. We are informed (the n + m th 
theory of Hamlet) that Shakspeare meant Hamlet as a type of 
vapid Germanism, of the dull formless Teutonic mind ! ! ! 
Kingsley they greatly like, and think him a fine poet, only the 
fear is that he will fall into Maurice s clutches and get spoiled. 
" We have heard that Mr. Kingsley holds extreme democratical 
opinions, and that he has been even mixed up with the 
Chartists, but this we cannot possibly believe." The article is 
clearly the production of a mere boy. 

Many thanks for your invitation to Easebourne ; I hope 
some day to take advantage of it. I fancy you will like 
Manning, but not very much ; his last dedication to Bishop 
Selwyn (whose letter on colonisation I hope you saw) pleased 
me much. Maurice says he is too circular a man you 
know his phrase, too much of an intellectual all-in-all. 

I do trust you will contrive to read Shirley. I have not 
had so rich a feast for so long a time. All the morbidness of 
Jane Eyre gone, and we have the freshest and most glowing 
pictures and the soundest and most needful principles, saving 
and except the authoress s unbounded hatred of curates. 

The expedition to Iceland seems not to have very favour 
able auspices, at least I fancy they don t know much about 
it, but I hope to hear more of it, as Babington has written to 
Prof. Daubeny. Babington himself has been there, and knows 
the difficulties and expenses ; in all probability, if I went at all, 
I should go alone with him, but I fear the expense is too 
great. This is quite distinct from the talked-of voyage to the 
Hebrides, Orkneys, etc. 

I am quite ashamed of having forgotten the Football Rules 
all the winter. Our Club Rules are as bad as bad can be, 
having a basis of the vile Eton system for making skill useless 
with merely one or two Rugby modifications. On the other 


hand, our Rugby rules are very complicated and hard to learn 
(though excellent), and require much explanation. If I can 
find them, you shall have a copy, but I will not delay this letter 
to look for them. 

I feel greatly tempted to go off, as you request, on politics, 
but this is the seventh sheet, and I had better wait a little. 
As for slavery, Carlyle had a most extraordinary article in the 
last Fraser but one, which has been very much abused. The 
drift of it is this : the W. Indies are going to rack and ruin, 
for laborers won t work ; niggers like pumpkin and idleness ; 
niggers never did any good yet, have no enterprise, no nothing. 
Man s highest business is work; if niggers won t work, they 
must be made to work, of course for pay. There is really 
something in the article, though put paradoxically. J. S. Mill 
has answered it fiercely in the last number ; it seems quiet and 
plausible enough, but in the vital principles of his reply there 
is more Red Republicanism than in anything I ever read. I 
do not know Kingsley s precise opinions, but infer from his 
writings that he is communistically disposed ; I know also that 
he and Maurice have battles on the subject. There is also 
significance in the fact that one of his sermons praises the 
benevolence of a Benefit Society. Whatever you think of me, 
do not suppose me to wish to rest on any respectabilities or 
conventions whatever ; thus much at least Carlyle has taught 
me, I hope for ever. If rank, station, wealth have no deeper 
foundation, they must fall, and will fall. I am glad you like 
Consuelo ; you will scarcely understand Albert, and his position 
with respect to the moral of the story, till you read the mar 
vellous sequel, La Comtesse de Rudohtadt, a strange wild chaos 
of thoughts, but instructive beyond measure. 

The following is Hort s first note to Mr. Westcott, 
then his classical coach : 


TRINITY COLLEGE, Monday [Jamtary 1850 (?)]. 

My dear Sir Having been laid up by a slight attack of 
scarlatina ever since the conclusion of the three days, I 



am still unable to leave my room, and have no chance of being 
able to do so while this unfavorable weather lasts ; I fear I 
must therefore defer reading with you for a few days. Mean 
while, however, I shall be much obliged if you will send me 
two or three pieces for composition, that I may at least make 
an attempt to do something, as I have not yet begun to work. 
Believe me, faithfully yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 




CAMBRIDGE, February Jth, 1850. 
My dear Ellerton I don t know how it is that your two 

most kind notes have been so long unanswered, but the time 
flies fast and unheeded as the Classical Tripos approaches. I 
am reading, or rather writing, with Westcott daily, and I hope 
getting some good. I hear the betting is equal on Beamont, 
Schreiber, and myself, and altogether I have enough to en 
courage me, though I am not working with much spirit. 

I don t think I shall go in for the Crosse, or Tyrwhitt 
either, though I am most culpably ignorant of the really 
essential cram which belongs to the former. I still waver 
at the Hulsean. If I could not go in for the New Triposes, I 
should probably try; but it is now all but certain that 1 
can, and both are, I fear, too much. The Master has just 
announced the special books for his part of the Examination of 
51 : viz. Plato, Charm., Prot., Rep. I. ; Aristotle, Nicomachean 
Ethics ; Cicero de finibus; Grotius de jure belli et pads, bk. i. ; 
and Dugald Stewart s Outlines of Moral Philosophy ; and as a 
special subject, Of Things Allowable, besides a less accurate 
knowledge of all moral philosophers of note, a list being given. 
The set is most wretched ; and I have a strong idea of writing 
to Maurice to ask for a short scheme of philosophical reading. 
This, some Theology, and Politics with especial reference to 
Communism, I hope to make my chief subjects of study for 
the next three or four years. 

Read Lady Alice, or the New Una if you can, and don t 
be frightened by its apparent (and, in part, real) Morning 
Postism. In spite of glaring faults, it is a noble book most 


noble, considering the quarter from which it seemingly comes, 
sentimental, all-but-Romish high aristocracy. It contains few 
personages of lower station than Marquises and Duchesses, 
and their sons and daughters ; and yet every character is a 
genuine man or woman of some stamp or other. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 8t/t, 1850. 

... A letter has to-day reacht the Macmillans from 
Maurice, the substance of which he wishes to have conveyed 
to all who feel any interest in him, with the assurance that he 
is deeply interested in its subject. He and * his friends have 
set up a journeyman tailor s joint establishment, with shared 
profits ; the same is in progress for needlework. Item they 
are going to issue a series of tracts called Tracts on Christian 
Socialism, the first a dialogue by himself. I need not say I 
look forward to them with the most intense interest ; if they 
merely advise these sort of things, i.e. an extension of the 
benefit-society principle to particular trades, well and good, 
provided they don t talk nonsense about people being fraternal 
and benevolent because they take part in a good investment 
for their money or labor. If they assert that Society itself 
and human relations should rest on the same principle, woe 
woe to them ! so at least I feel. I have pretty well made up 
my mind to devote my three or four years up here to the 
study of this subject of Communism more than any but the 
kindred topics of Theology and Moral Philosophy. 


March 6th, 1850. 

My dear Ellerton I fear you will have been wondering 
what in the world has become of me that I have not written 
to you to congratulate you. 1 . . . But how to congratulate you 

3 On his ordination. 


I scarcely know happily you need no formal assurance 
how deeply and heartily I give you joy. To receive the 
commission given to the Apostles, to be the consecrated herald 
of the One Holy Catholic Church to men torn asunder and 
set one against the other by wilfulness and slavishness but I 
need not go on with what you know as well as I do all these 
are blessings for which I may well envy you. But my time is 
not yet come. ... I have brought down here single volumes 
of Fleury, Bingham, Guericke, S. Chrysostom de Sacerdotio, 
Origenis contra Cdsum, and S. Cyprian s Epistles, to begin 
upon the Hulsean, but have not read or written a word yet. 
I have also brought a little Moral Philosophy and Modern 
History to read for the Moral Sciences Tripos. I hope in four 
or five days to hear the result of the Classical Tripos. I ven 
ture to make no prophecies, but will only say that, tho I 
made heaps of mistakes, I was on the whole more than 
satisfied. ... Of course you have seen No. i of the Tracts 
on Christian Socialism, i.e. Maurice s dialogue between No 
body and Somebody. I will try hard to write at length to 
you on that point very soon. 


BATH, March igth, 1850. 

I write this to-night, intending to send it in the morning in 
company with a Tripos list which I hope to receive from 
Blunt by to-morrow s post. Macmillan sent me one to-day. 
. . . After all, really, culpably, idle as I have been, I cer 
tainly have not the least right to complain because I am 
bracketed 3rd. I am quite ashamed to think how gloomy 
and discontented I have been this afternoon since receiving 
the list, in spite of many a gentle monition from " Him, the 
Giver," that it is still He " who satisfieth my mouth with good 
things, making me young and lusty as an eagle." Meanwhile 
He has even now, I venture to think, given me a far more 
precious gift than a degree. The greatest service you can do 
for me is to pray that I may not need herein too to have my 
selfish pride bruised, in order to be fitted for His holy service. 


. . . Very many thanks for s most interesting letter, 
which I return. It is glorious, indeed, to think that Maurice 
should penetrate even /such crusts of antique bigotry, but 
thirsty souls who long for light will welcome it whencesoever it 
comes. May God bless you in all your future work, as He 
seems to have blest you already. 


BATH, March i $th and April gth, 1850. 

My dear Ellerton I believe it will be best for me to write 
specially in answer to your last. ... I believe the best mode 
of introducing some kind of method will be to follow Maurice s 
example, and try to give you, in the first instance, a rapid 
sketch of the processes which I have myself traversed. This 
way will, in fact, be a direct answer to your original question 
how I have come to diverge from our former common track 
of politics. But you must not expect me to be certainly 
accurate in details. I must claim the indulgence which 
Maurice himself so generously, yet so justly, grants to New 
man, for, as he says, in such cases the most rapid changes 
and rechanges are nothing extraordinary, and chronology must 
be in a great measure disregarded. 

I believe you know that my father being, to use his own 
phrase, a Conservative Whig, I was originally something of 
the kind, I didn t exactly know what, only I fancy I had great 
faith in the admirably balanced constitution of Kings, 
Lords, and Commons, tho I always kicked against the 
maxim, * The King can do no wrong. Arnold made me really 
see the dignity and glory of politics, tho a certain indefined 
feeling of Liberalism was, I think, nearly all the positive 
political creed that I derived originally from him ; but under 
this influence .1 quite sympathised with Peel on Maynooth 
and one or two such questions. Accordingly, at the Rugby 
Debating Society I at first joined the Conservative side, tho 
in speaking I was generally intermediate. I then read Arnold 
more, and became more positively Whig-Radical. When the 
Corn Laws were repealed I said that Conservatism existed no 

AGE 21 



longer. I could not be a Tory, and so shifted to the Whig 
side of the House. Just before I left I was made quite wild 
by Carlyle s Cromwell, which I swallowed whole, and became 
a mere worshipper of Cromwell, thinking myself a Radical. 
Coming up to Cambridge I was much the same, tho I 
began somehow to feel how very unliberal and unradical 
Cromwell was. 

Coleridge s influence went for something in abating my 
furor, but Arnold became my almost sole Doctor in politics. 
Such or similar was my condition when I began to know you, 
and indeed nearly all the while we were together. I am 
bound to confess that the Politics for the People were too 
readily swallowed. I did not enough consider what I was 
about, or remember that professedly the writers in it were at 
variance with each other. Hence the only body of my Chartism 
was what Arnold had taught my conscience. All the rest was 
vague sentiment and theory. 

In the following autumn the 3rd vol. of Maurice s King 
dom, ist ed., made some impressions upon me, but only 
vague and disconnected impressions. Meanwhile I found 
myself compelled to resolve in good earnest the questions to 
which in reading the Politics I had given a hasty assent, and 
such as resulted from them. Political rights in the abstract 
were the prominent feature. Ludlovv had spoken of Uni 
versal Suffrage, and I said Aye. But why ? Because every 
man of full age and compos mentis had a right to a vote. And 
why had he a right to a vote ? Because all government that is 
not self-government is old-world tyranny. The only question 
was, What was the best form of government for making it bona 
fide self-government ? 

But then came the recollection of an argument which 
at Rugby Bradby, a clever and thoughtful Young Englander, 
had given (from Coleridge) against universal suffrage, viz. that 
a limit must be assigned to voters, otherwise why not include 
women and children ? I had formerly simply * pooh-poohed 
the argument. I now felt no real answer to it, but by ad 
mitting the consequences. Practically children might be ex 
cluded, but why exclude women ? Whether or no they had 
a different mental constitution from men, at least they were 


educated, they could form opinions, they were individual 
human beings ; why should they surrender their rights as 
such? It might be expedient for a while to exclude them, 
even as they had always been excluded ; but this touched not 
my point, whether in a right and normal state of things they 
would not have equal political rights with men. I do not 
think I ever absolutely assented, but for a long while I could 
find no reason for refusing assent. But I became soon more 
and more sensible that, in the state at which I had arrived in 
the process of making democracy more and more pure, I 
had been making individualism the true primal characteristic 
of humanity, the relations of society but secondary had, in 
short, been thinking as if a man could only be right when 
contemplated apart from his fellows. This conclusion per se 
was not agreeable to my strong disgust (drawn from Cole 
ridge) against the French Encyclopedist theories of man being, 
in the first instance, savage and then by degrees civilising him 
self by experience. But, what was stronger, this view of 
political rights plainly set aside the idea of family ; such an 
idea could consistently be but an accidental and non-essential 

A society, however democratic, yet composed of a number 
of individual bodies possessing each an unity within itself, did 
not satisfy the desiderata of my primal numerical troop of 
human beings ; but this led to and involved yet deeper con 
siderations. When talking of a nation it is easy to think of 
all men as on the same level; but when we get into the 
narrower region of a family, we find its members bearing to 
each other de facto the most various relationships. It is not 
easy to persuade oneself that father and son possess a merely 
fraternal relation to each other. But above all, is the autho 
rity (or whatever name you choose to give it) of father over 
son, of husband over wife, a purely factitious and unnatural 

This is the root of the matter. Leaving out the latter case, 
we find the former acknowledged virtually by the common 
consent of mankind to be the type of all authority, regal or 
otherwise; even were it not so, knock down all political 
authority, commonly so called, and you will still have this 

AGE 21 




paternal authority obnoxious to all the objections which beset 
authority generally, and no one will pretend that it merely arises 
from the consent of the son to be governed. Possibly then 
this authority too must needs go ; only, not merely factitious 
institutions, but every monition of conscience and reason 
must go with it. That which, however abused, does still seem 
the main bond of order to society, the channel through which 
all education must (ideally) flow so long as men have not the 
power of begetting full-grown men full-grown in mind and 
body that, it seemed, must give way to the imperious require 
ments of our theory, itself founded, as it seemed, on equally 
deep and universal principles. All this is and was inde 
pendent of the teaching of the Bible, which I do not think you 
will be willing to allow to be quite beside the point. For my 
own part, whatever else might be true, I could not and would 
not give up the divine and permanent Tightness of the paternal 
authority ; and so for a while I remained, of course not exactly 
quiescent, but oscillating in erratic curves; what I tell you, 
however, was, I believe, my punctum medium. 

Now in all this theory there was, I think, a vague notion 
interfused that obedience to authority, however warranted by 
occasional circumstances, has in it somewhat of an essentially 
servile nature. But about this time I had constantly in my 
mind that wonderful reconciliation of half the theological 
enigmas which ever have arisen, which Maurice points out in 
one of his sermons on the Temptation, and expounds more 
fully (tho , I think, not so forcibly) in one of his latter 
Prayer-book series l on the Consecration Prayer. He reminds 
us how " worldly men in their carnal and proud hearts cannot 
conceive how the Father commands because the Son obeys, 
and the Son obeys because the Father commands." 

This had for some time given to me a most blessed and 
practical solution of the question of Free Will. I dared not 
apply the term l servile to this loving and willing yet eternal 
obedience of the Son " begotten before all worlds " ; yet surely 
it was the fullest, completest obedience, the perfect type of all 
imperfect obedience on earth, and likewise was the authority 

1 Christmas Day, and other Sermons, Sermon xii. p. 160 (ist ed. 


of the Father the fullest, completest authority, the perfect type 
of all imperfect authority on earth. This fundamental doctrine 
of the filial subordination of the Son from all eternity (in no 
wise interfering with His co-eternity and co-equality with the 
Father) is hard to receive, and will always be rejected when 
the understanding seeks to exert an universal empire ; yet I 
fully believe that it is the keystone of theology and humanity, 
and that without it men must confound the Persons. It is 
very remarkable that Coleridge, in spite of his underlying 
tendency to Sabellianism, which (as it seems to me) gives 
evident tokens of its presence in his Literary Remains, clung 
with such determined energy to this doctrine that he rejected 
the Athanasian Creed mainly because it seemed to him to be 
silent about it, if not to deny it by implication. Thousands 
of persons who do not dream of rejecting St. John s Gospel, 
would be horrified at its distinct enunciation, concluding 
(correctly enough, according to logic) that it is incompatible 
with the belief of the equality of the Three Persons of the 
Trinity. And I am now persuaded that this same scepticism 
of the carnal understanding is what makes us confound obedi 
ence on earth with slavery, authority with tyranny ; and set 
down freedom as inconsistent with obedience. And I am 
likewise persuaded that practically men gain this seemingly 
impossible reconciliation in and through that same Spirit in 
whom the Son and the Father are (I do not now say one 
that is another question) equal. 

In conjunction with this idea I found great help in one 
somewhat different, at least in form. Maurice, in the Politics, 
discusses the fundamental axioms from which Mill deduced 
Universal Suffrage. The first was, "Government was made 
for man, and not man for government." The first half 
Maurice allows ; the second is, he says, ambiguous : if it 
means that man was not made to be governed, it is false. I 
do not recollect Maurice s arguments ; the idea was pregnant 
enough in itself. You must have observed that nearly all demo 
cratic theorists lose sight of God s government of mankind ; 
if reminded of it, they say, " Oh yes ! we know that, that of 
course superintends everything, but we are thinking of the 
government of men by men." If, however, the analogy of 

AGE 21 



God s dealings with men in other matters is to be here pre 
served, we must start from God s government, and make that 
the central idea of all our speculations. Men therefore, I say, 
are made to be governed by God. They are not, in the first 
instance, free from superior controul; this is the essential 
point. Whether or not democracy be true, men are ideally, 
normally in their right state only when they obey a law not 
of their own creation. I appeal to you whether this doctrine 
is not really as opposed to the general broad axiom that no 
reasonable being can be bound by what he has not consented 
to, as any Tory doctrine is ; and if that axiom be not general 
and broad, I do not see what foundation it can ever seem to 
have to a reasonable man. 

But further, the Bible surely teaches us that every function 
among men is a copy of some Divine function, and not a 
copy only, but an operative and representative image of it, 
Thus human priests are representatives of the High Priest, 
not substitutes or vicars for Him, but discharging partially His 
functions to men, setting forth what He is ; fathers likewise 
represent the Great Father, and so with other functions. 

Surely it is most natural to suppose that, analogously to the 
other parts of this Divine plan, we shall have representative 
kings, setting forth the Divine King of mankind, deriving their 
authority and commission directly from Him, and in no wise 
invested with them merely by the free-will of their subjects, 
the people. 

But we should also naturally expect that many rulers would 
seek to hold power by a very different tenure, not to exhibit 
themselves as true officers of the Righteous Governor of all 
by themselves exercising Righteous Government, but to set 
up their own will as law, delighting not in doing what is right, 
but what they pleased ; such a kingship God Himself cannot 
exercise. By the very law of His nature His will must be a 
righteous, cannot be an arbitrary will, and that righteous will is 
the true fountain of law for all who bear His title of king. Such, 
briefly, I believe to be God s primal plan for the government 
of the nations. Men have caused all sorts of deviations from 
it, even as myriads of sects and heresies have obscured the 
true type of the Church. The more fully, as I believe, that 


this plan is carried out, the more perfect will be the liberty of 
subjects, the more will all arbitrary and unjust barriers be 
broken down ; for neither for God, nor angel, nor man can 
I admit liberty to consist in unbounded scope for arbitrary 
will, but in perfect willing obedience to a perfect law. 

As for the course of events, they are evidently tending to 
democracy. Kings have forgotten their mission and set 
themselves up as devil-tyrants. So far as I can read God s ways 
in history, it is His purpose by these (?) l means to work out 
the liberation of all mankind from the thraldom of all kinds 
of kingly oppression, and then, when at the same time the 
barriers true as well as false have been broken down, and the 
nations are howling in all the horrors of anarchy, to set 
up anew His true representatives, kings exercising righteous 

With regard to the case of the Israelites, I think Maurice 
is right. At the time of Saul they were scarcely enough formed 
into a nation to be fit for a king, more especially as it was 
needful that they should first be taught the primary truth (the 
title by which David reigned), that the Lord was their King ; 
but clearly it was intended that they should ultimately have 
an earthly king. Their sin was that they desired one who 
should treat them as slaves, and not as the free subjects of a 
true king. 

Thus much concerning my Toryism. I might write for 
ever, but space has bounds. The question of rebellion, which 
in some measure follows as a corollary, it is less important to 
touch on, more especially as it is well treated in the Kingdom 
of Christ^ vol. iii. ist ed. 2 But perhaps you will fancy that this 
has little to do with Communism. I can only say that it was 
through the region of pure politics that I myself approacht 
Communism, and I cannot help feeling that I thereby was 
delivered from some very unpleasant paradoxes. 

Most persons think of it merely as connected with property ; 
others with rank and social station; others with family and 
especially conjugal relations. All these are, I believe, most 
intimately connected ; at all events, I never heard of a Com- 

1 The word is indistinct. 
2 See postscript to this letter, p. 144. 


munist who was not a Radical. (I use the word in no offen 
sive sense.) 

I have no intention of going through all these phases ; but 
if you allow the truth of what I have alleged in favour of in 
equality of power and authority, you will, I think, see that 
consistently the same must be true with regard to property. 
Let me say once for all what appears to me to be the real 
nature of the difference between the several opinions on the 
subject. Political economists, * Millocrats (P), 1 aristocrats, 
etc. etc., practically and often avowedly declare that their 
superiorities of wealth, or station, or birth are intended for 
their own special enjoyment, are, so long as they possess them, 
exclusively their own, and that they may do what they like 
with their own. 

The Communistic or rather Socialistic theorist accepts this 
selfish view of property, etc., and appeals to mankind whether 
it is right that these gradations of enjoyment or happiness 
should be recognised and allowed. All men, he contends, 
have an equal right to enjoy themselves, to have an equal 
portion of the pabulum of enjoyment. But it seems to me that 
the deadly poison of Socialism is its deification of selfishness, 
that it is based upon the notion of a balance of interests, as 
many in number as there are human beings on the globe. 
Surely, surely the doctrine which Kingsley pours forth so 
gloriously in The Sainfs Tragedy is the true doctrine, that 
nothing in the universe, which lives its true life, lives for itself. 

Surely every man is meant to be God s steward of every 
blessing and talent (power, wealth, influence, station, birth, 
etc. etc.) which He gives him, for the benefit of his neigh 
bours. Taken simply per se, this doctrine would probably 
lead to much fanaticism, constantly to the saddest confusions 
and perversions of God s laws ; but, if we remember that His 
Spirit is at every moment teaching us how to be faithful and 
wise stewards, reminding us that we are not mere bottomless 
buckets (letting God s gifts run straight through us as fast as 
we receive them) but responsible living men, bound, as on the 
one hand not to seek our own enjoyment, so on the other to 
remember constantly (the hardest of tasks to the * well-mean- 
1 The word is indistinct. 


ing !) that neither is enjoyment the right end of the lives of 
others, and that the truest and highest way of spending and 
being spent for our brethren is to educate them constantly 
especially to the highest education, the knowledge of God, 
if we do this, I say, we shall see why God gives more to one 
than to another, and learn how to be workers together with 
Him for His great glory ; for this again is an important con 
sideration. He uses all sorts of means in the education of 
mankind ; and even so may and must we use all that are in 
our hands, not stepping out of our place and endeavouring to 
be greater philanthropists than He is, but laboring to discern 
and keep in harmony with the present laws of His operation. 

To be without responsibility, to be in no degree our 
brother s keeper, would be the heaviest curse imaginable. 
This seems true universally, but surely there is no material of 
responsibility so powerful as wealth; how men could be 
educated without it, I cannot see. 

But I am far from shutting my eyes to the awful abuses of 
property now existing ; but for those, I think, if possible, 
partial or temporal remedies must be devised. I cannot at 
present see any objection to a limit being placed by the State 
upon the amount of property which any one person may 
possess, or even to sumptuary laws of various kinds ; on such 
points we might learn much from the Romans. I believe the 
true idea of property to be set forth in Maurice s sermon, on 
" Give us this day our daily bread." " Mine and yet not mine, 
but mankind s " is its formula, logically self-contradictory, even 
as is the similar formula of moral action, " I and yet not I, 
but Christ that dwelleth in me." The doctrine of human 
merit is the corruption on the one side, of the negation of 
virtue and the substitution of vicarious virtuous acts of Christ s, 
on the other, of the latter idea; 1 and in like manner the 
common selfish notion of property is the corruption on the 
one side, socialism on the other, of the former. 

But you will protest that, true or false, this seems not to 

1 This sentence is obscurely worded. Apparently the right sense would 
be given by rewriting thus : Of the latter idea the doctrine of human merit 
is the corruption on the one side ; that of the negation of virtue and the sub 
stitution of vicarious virtuous acts of Christ is its corruption on the other." 



touch the frightfully practical question of Competition ; you 
rejoice because Maurice seems to you to state broadly that 
competition is per se a bad thing. To the best of my recollec 
tion this is not his real doctrine. I think he says at all events 
/ would say that the co-operative principle is a better and a 
mightier than the competitive principle ; for I know no mean 
ing for the competitive principle but a rivalry, a jealous and 
selfish rivalry, of interests. It seems to me that competition is 
not in itself a bad thing, if we mean by that that several men 
separately gain their living by the same means ; I would rather 
say that the co-operative principle attains its fullest realization 
in competition, and that competition is self-ruinous, self- 
destructive without it. Would that all thought so and acted 
so ! To denounce competition as purely evil is to say (as a 
little reflexion will show you) that trade is purely evil, and 
commerce, and all interchange of goods. 

This is certainly a startling doctrine. Possibly if trade 
were more generally regulated by the principles of the book 
of Proverbs, no one would dream of admitting such a doctrine 
for a moment. But when the co-operative principle seeks to 
frame for itself a spell [?] x drawn out of itself, in short, to 
solidify itself into a system of its own, it must lose its own 
meaning. Its beauty and excellence are moral, not mechanic 
ally inherent ; co-operation is fellow-work, the work of brother 
men for and with each other. Here each is a spring of life, 
each s responsibility is daily proved, each renders to his 
brethren willing, cheerful, reasonable service. But co-operation 
turned into a system becomes simply co-machination \ the 
true individuality of each is lost, all that constitutes him a man, 
a moral being, is lost ; he is merely a conjointly-working wheel. 
Nor is selfishness a whit removed ; he seeks our interest, 
* the interest of that of which / am a part, instead of my 
interest ; and I own I do not see what is gained by the 
change. Of course he may be unselfish under such circum 
stances, but not more so than under a state of competition. 

I am quite willing to allow that as temporary and partial 
alleviations of present material suffering, nay, possibly as 
examples suggestive of the principle which should guide all 

1 The word is indistinct. 


dealings of trade, such associations as Maurice is setting up 
may be most useful. But I contend that such devices must be 
but grease and springs to relieve the jars and strains and jerks 
of our social system, but never can rightly, or even (for any 
time) possibly, form its substantive elements, much less its 
motive power. The very important question of birth and 
nobility I have not much studied, but assuming that normally 
there are inequalities of station, I cannot imagine any better 
foundation of inequality, any more effectual corrective of a 
mere ploutocracy or titanocracy. 

There is a most common feeling to which one cannot 
but in great measure assent, that power and dignity should 
belong to those, and those alone, who are worthy of them, and 
would exercise them wisely find graciously. Yet after much 
reflexion on this point (especially in connexion with Carlyle s 
demand of only Able-men for kings) I have come to the con 
clusion that God most wisely ordains that men should be 
looked up to for other than personal excellencies ; otherwise 
it would, I feel, be next to impossible to think of Him as the 
Source of everything bright and good, and not to look upon 
their excellencies as inherent in themselves. These seemingly 
arbitrary grounds of distinction are so many witnesses that it 
is God Himself who must choose whom He will delight to 
honour. There is also a most evident connexion between 
pre-eminence of birth and the idea of family, which I think you 
will readily allow to have been the simplest type of order 
which God has set forth to men in all ages, the trunk of the 
tree of society. Further, whatever may be the case when all 
mankind shall have understood and recovered their true 
position, there is now at least great good in the attaching 
honour to those who distinctly preserve practically the idea of 
race, the main medium of setting forth true individualism 
together with true blood-unity, as separated pro tanto from 
the masses, from those who mostly forget their connexion 
with the past and the future, and more or less are but particles 
of a lump. (See Maurice s comment on the Beast in The 
Songs of the Church.} But however the horrors of com 
petition and aristocratic insolence may act as ever-present 
goads to you, I believe the main root of your Communism, 

AGE 21 



and of all true Communism (i.e. Socialism plus what I am 
going to mention), is the feeling that men are meant to be 
not only free, brothers of each other, equals of each other, 
but one with each other. 

I think Maurice was wrong in substituting Unity for Equality 
in the Communistic triad, for Unity being a far deeper idea 
than Equality, he disturbed the co-ordination of the three ; 
Unity is rather the central root from which they all spring. 
And I for one do most firmly hold that all men are equal, as 
well as that men are unequal, and that their equality is deeper 
than their inequality. I mean it not merely in the pseudo- 
religious way in which it is often acknowledged in the pulpit 
on Sunday, but really substantially as a fundamental principle 
of true Christian action. But I should think it a hungry, dry, 
theoretical principle if it were not sustained by the principle 
of the unity of mankind, the deepest in men s hearts and the 
hardest to express in any formula, revolutionary or otherwise. 

And as I believe that men are equal in spite of the divine 
inequalities of paternity, kingship, etc. etc., because the Father 
and the Son are co-equal in spite of the subordination of the 
Son to the Father, even so I believe that men, though many 
persons, are one, because the Father and the Son are one, and 
that in each case the unition is in and through the Spirit, not 
begotten, but proceeding from both the Father and the Son. 

The distinctness of the Three Persons of the Godhead is 
the ground of the personal distinctness of men, which personal 
distinctness is hated by genuine Communists ; witness the 
rejection of individual names on the part of the Count and 
Countess in La Comtesse de Rudolstadt, who will acknow 
ledge no name but the common name of man. This 
principle of unity may take, and has taken, a thousand different 
shapes. I will not enter upon its connexion with the Church, 
but merely refer to { A man s a man for a that and the 
Bothie as good practical expressions of it. It has much to 
do (especially in connexion with the opposite pole of Individu 
ality) with various mysterious but most important questions 
that, for instance, of the relation of epws to o-ropyrj and of 
aycwn; to both, but these, tho quite ad rem, must be left now 


Instead of giving you now any a posteriori arguments to 
connect Communism with Pantheism, I will leave you to 
follow out such thoughts as what I have already said may 
suggest. Neither will I bother you with showing that to be 
consistent you must follow Plato, and believe permanence of 
marriage to be a pernicious bondage. Lawless right, formless 
substance, bodiless spirit, these are, I believe, the general 
formulae common to all the aspects of Pantheism ; arbitrary 
law, naked form, lifeless matter, of pure Monotheism. The 
mutual correlation and reciprocal necessity of the twin sets of 
ideas, as grounded upon a Trinity in Unity, are set forth and 
interwoven into the daily life of men by the two great 
Universal Sacraments, and in a lesser degree by the lesser 
Sacraments. I ask you not to conclude too hastily that this 
conflict and this reconciliation, which are found in every 
other region, are wanting in the region of Politics. May God 
lead us both into all truth in these and all other mysteries of 
His Kingdom ! Ever, my dear Ellerton, most affectionately 
yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


On second thoughts it seems better to say a word on 
loyalty and rebellion. I do not profess to be able to 
answer every objection, but I think I see my way clearly 
in one or two directions. There is a certain Divine plan 
upon which God would have all kingdoms formed, even 
as there is a certain Divine plan for all churches and religious 
bodies ; but, as religious bodies have forsaken the Apostolic 
type, even so have states forsaken their true Davidean type, 
becoming tyrannies and democracies in various modifications. 
Nevertheless all these violations of God s own order are part of 
His providential government. It behoves men therefore, who 
find themselves in an abnormal and irregular state of things, 
while they maintain in their hearts and advance, so far as 
God s will is made manifest to them, the truer and higher 
state, to submit themselves to the lower, and more corrupt, as 
still in a lower sense ordained by Him, and not to rebel 
against it in self-will ; thus the Apostles rightly did not resist 
the Emperors, but the Nonjurors acted wrongly. Submission 


to de facto rule is a duty. It was for their maintaining this rule 
in opposition to the Sacheverel doctrine that James I. refused 
to sign the Canons of 1606 (I think), commonly called Bishop 
Overall s Convocation Book, after they had been adopted by both 
Houses of Convocation and Parliament. Loyalty I cannot 
define, but it seems to me to be a peculiar filial feeling toward 
God s Anointed King, which could never in any considerable 
degree be shown to any one, whose authority was in any sense 
our own creature. It is customary to call it slavish ; but a 
slave, a human labouring machine, cannot be loyal ; freedom 
and personal independence are implied in it. 

The following letter was written and sent before the 
last was completed : 


BATH, March 30^, 1850. 

. . I cannot let Easter-tide altogether pass away without 
ling you a line or two of good wishes and ordinary babble. 
As for No. i, you seem to take that individual s misfortunes (?) 
to heart much more than he does himself; there is really 
nothing very appalling in being two places lower than one 
might have been, tho it is vexatious, especially as Tait 
seems disappointed, as well as several of my friends. I should 
infer from your letter that you fancy Beamont to be above 
me ; that is not the case ; he merely begins with a B, I with 
an H (I wish for the nonce the examiners had spelt me as 
some tradesmen do, Aught !). Schreiber and Beamont have 
got the medals, and are, I should think, the best of those in 
for them. After all I have the Moral and Natural Science 
Triposes still before me, to say nothing of my Fellowship ; I 
wish I had any chance of the latter for this year, but I have 
none. If during the next eighteen or twenty months I read 
half what I have in mind to do, I shall do very well, but 
indolent ways are not easily overcome. 

I have made several valuable acquaintances ; among others 
that of Markland (who founded the sermon for the Propagation 


of the Gospel Society). . . . He had a glorious library, heaps 
of interesting portraits, etc. etc., and pleased me much. I 
heard once at St. Michael s, a splendid modern Early English 

church, . I was half asleep, but he seemed a man with 

real brave stuff in him. I was twice or three times at the 
Octagon Chapel. These chapels are curious places, quite 

I heard John Parry the other night ; he is laughable 
enough, has a noble voice and most marvellous power over 
the piano, but his entertainments are not particularly 

This is a most beautiful city. The Abbey is not very much, 
late Perpendicular, unfinished ; but the hollows and combes, 
where the soft lias of the vales melts into its harder beds, 
where they join on to the oolite of the hills, are most varied 
and rich. We are about the junction of the strata, half-way 
up Lansdown, in the last row in Bath, looking out on the 
breezy Victoria Park. 

Perhaps it will be as well to keep Maurice s letter till I am 
in Cambridge, which will be (D. V.) in a fortnight. You are 
most welcome to take a copy for yourself; but no one has 
seen it but the Macmillans, their friend H. Gotobed, W. 
Howard, and Blunt, and it is very doubtful whether I shall 
show it to any one else. 

I wish Kingsley s tract Cheap Clothes and Nasty was 
out. I am not now going to talk on the subject, but simply 
protest against being associated with the Economist, or 
any other political economic quack. You shall have more of 
the new Princess from Cambridge ; there is a song between 
each canto, and the * conclusion is considerably altered and 
enlarged ; minor changes occur throughout. Don t abuse 
Kingsley s War-song ; it is not flute-like, but surely it has a 
rude gigantesque tromboon vigour about its music ; it occurs 
in one of a beautiful series of articles on N. Devon, and is 
sung by Claude Mellot in a boat of fishermen and fisherwomen, 
old and young, going out from Clovelly to Lundy Isle. I am 
much pleased with No. 2 of Carlyle ; he has boldly set forth 
justice as a ground of punishment, and made the sentimentalists 
furious. The authoress of Shirley is older than you fancy ; 

AGE 22 



she is twenty-six, and wears light flowing hair down to her 
waist. She lives quite in solitude with her father (her two 
sisters died a year or two ago), and he knew nothing of the 
matter till she simultaneously presented him with Jane Eyre 
and the reviews of it. Clark reviewed Shirley in Fraser. I 
saw in the North American an amusing review of Lady Alice. 
It is much vext to find that the book is written by an American, 
and grieves that a model republican should write so superstitious, 
aristocratic, indecent a book ; it certainly has faults enough, 
but no nation need be ashamed of it. I want much to skim 
Southey s Life, but have not yet seen it. 

I wish I saw into that ^pov^a a-ap/cos question ; Maurice 
gave me no answer about it. Two things at least are certain : 
first, that Christ has redeemed the flesh and taken it into the 
Divine Nature by the Incarnation ; second, that " the flesh 
lusteth against the spirit." The reconciliation I cannot see. 

I am afraid I cannot help you on Gen. iii. Probably 
Revelations are, as you hint, the best guide ; the beginning of 
the Bible is elucidated by the end. I have often thought of 
asking Maurice in conversation, but there are more impera 
tively engrossing points. Thinking over the time when I used 
to exult in despising Revelations, etc., I cannot help thinking 
of Clough s lines, and longing for more of that 

Courage to let the courage sink, 
Itself a coward base to think, 
Rather than not for heavenly light 
Wait on, to show the truly right. 

I wrote to Macmillan about Midhurst ; I know no one myself. 
Respecting your work in Scotland, remember that noble sonnet 
by one of the Ragged School teachers, prefixt to the volume of 
the Politics for the People, beginning 

Not all who seem to fail, have failed indeed. 


CAMBRIDGE, May lot/t, 1850. 

. . . The Exhibition of Antient and Mediaeval Art, which 
I especially wished to see, interested me a good deal, though I 


was in some measure disappointed ; I had expected to see a 
good deal of beauty of form, especially in the goldsmiths 
work, but found scarcely any. On the other hand, the elabor 
ateness and richness of the carving was perfectly wonderful. 
Many of the best objects had been sent for exhibition by the 
Queen, and several were of historical as well as artistic 
interest ; one of the finest of these was a magnificent shield 
(attributed to Benvenuto Cellini) given by Francis I. to Henry 
VIII., probably at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. 

. . . Babington will be much pleased if I can join him at 
Edinburgh for the British Association, which meets there on 
July 3ist, and then take a run with him and Balfour (the 
Edinburgh Professor of Botany) into Ross-shire and Sutherland- 
shire, and either the Hebrides or the Orkneys for scientific 
exploration. I was glad on reaching Cambridge, and examin 
ing the Ilfracombe sea-weeds which I had myself gathered, 
and a few of which I had laid out, to find that, with few 
exceptions, you and I had hit on different species. 


CAMBRIDGE, Ascension Day, 1850. 
(Finisht May 12th.) 

. . . You ask me about the liberty to be allowed to 
clergymen in their views of Baptism. For my own part, I 
would gladly admit to the ministry such as hold Gorham s 
view, much more such as hold the ordinary confused Evan 
gelical notions, tho I would on no account alter the Prayer- 
book or Catechism to make them more palatable to them. But 
for all that I could not have signed the famous Judgement, 
because I do not think that the Formularies will fairly bear 
the meaning there pronounced admissible. But if a clergy 
man says he can honestly use them, I would not molest him. 
I do not think that Gorham s views would have been tolerated 
in the early ages. I am not aware of their existence for many 
centuries except in notorious heretics. 

Of course you have seen by this time Cheap Clothes and 
Nasty, and the three numbers of the Tracts on Christian 


Socialism, i and 3 by Maurice, and 2 by a barrister of the 
name of Hughes. They are fully worth study ; but I still hold 
back from Socialism. . . . 

I think Maurice s letter to me sufficiently showed that we 
have no sure knowledge respecting the duration of future 
punishment, and that the word eternal has a far higher 
meaning than the merely material one of excessively long 
duration ; extinction always grates against my mind as some 
thing impossible. . . . 

You will be glad to hear that Sir James Stephen has been 
delivering a really splendid course of lectures on the medi 
aeval history of France, . . . full of matter and thought. 

Hare s charge is good and interesting ; he has twice 
indignant protests against the persecution of Miss Sellon ; his 
letter to Cavendish is not remarkable. I daresay you will 
have seen the article in the Quarterly on Maurice and 
Queen s College, as well as Maurice s magnificent pamphlet in 
reply ; I never saw charges so completely flung back on the 
accuser. As a piece of controversial writing, it surpasses even 
Henry of Exeter s works. 


CAMBRIDGE, May i6th, 1850. 

... A few days afterwards Kingsley was here for an hour 
or two merely on business, so that I did not see him, but 
Macmillan told him of you and Serres (that s the name I 
think) ; he said that he would give anything to know you, and 
desired that his request might be conveyed to you to call upon 
him at Eversley, or write to him, and he would call upon you 
at Easebourne, or do anything else to bring you together. 

I was in town from Sunday to Tuesday last but one, to see 
the Mediaeval Exhibition ; heard Maurice preach on Sunday, 
went to breakfast with him on Monday and Tuesday, and tea 
on Monday, and saw and made acquaintance with Ludlow, 
Hughes (the author of Tract No. 2), Furnival, Vansittart 
Neale, Chevallier, and others of the set, as well as the Tailors. 
A. Macmillan (who was with me) told them I was an enemy, 


but I had a friend Ellerton down in the country, a most 
determined Socialist ; they shouted, Hughes especially, O that 
they must at once get him to fraternize and make him an 
agent, and Hughes asked me where you dwelt ; I told him, and 
shall not be surprized if you hear something of them ; at all 
events, the door is opened for you. 

Of course you ve seen Maurice s magnificent smasher of the 
Quarterly s pitiful attack. Kingsley is coming out with a three- 
volume Socialist novel, Alton Locke, Poet and Tailor: an 
Autobiography ; I have to-day seen the two first proof-sheets. 


CAMBRIDGE, Trinity Stmday [May 26th], 1850. 

My dear Ellerton After spending the greater part of to 
day in reading Maurice s History of Philosophy, from the 
beginning of Plato down to the Christian period (no small 
amount), I sit down to begin to you an answer due above a 
month ago. 

... I heard a fair amount of music at Bath. Catherine 
Hayes disgusted me ; they call her pretty, but she is merely 
like a painted doll. I don t know whether you remember 
a pair of popular Cambridge engravings, each of a rustic 
girl sitting in an attitude on a bank simpering vilely; the 
prettiest of them is exactly a portrait of her, and all her 
ways and manners are equally mincing. Her crack song, 
Savourneen Deelish, was to me horrible; she dolorously 
drawled and whined and spun out the notes to half a minute 
apiece, in a manner most unpathetic and unballad-like. She 
has a wonderful, rich, powerful voice (of course far below 
Jenny Lind s), but, I think, no genius. This came out most 
strongly in Ah non giungej which she had the bad taste to 
sing in rivalry of Jenny Lind ; she sung it very well, but it was 
merely the pretty, varied, sensuous air of Bellini, while Jenny 
threw the very soul of music into it. I must in justice mention 
that she was picked out of a charity school at Limerick by the 
late Bishop, educated, and sent to Italy at his expense. 
Meanwhile he got into difficulties and had to sell the furniture 

AGE 22 


of his palace ; she chanced to hear of it, instantaneously turned 
every article she possest into money, and redeemed the 
furniture. I did not like Kate Loder s piano-playing, it was 
so monotonous and tastelessly rapid; but she had the dis 
advantage of a detestable piano. 

While I think of it, will you be kind enough to send me 
Maurice s letter, if you have really done with it ? 

How noble Carlyle continues in spite of some nonsense ! 
We had a capital Union debate on the Latter-Day Pamphlets ; 
of course I defended him most warmly. Davies l (our scholar) 
sent Carlyle a copy of a pamphlet he has just published (on 
admitting the Clergy to Parliament), and mentioned the debate 
and its favorable result, and received a most characteristic 
but hearty and kind note in return. It was Mill who answered 
Carlyle on Quashee and Pumpkin, etc. Apropos of him, ist, 
because I see that in England Socialism begins in the region 
of Political Economy, and to study it rightly one should occupy 
the ground ; 2nd, because the subject is in the Moral Science 
Tripos, I have just got his Political Economy, and hope to 
read it cum multis aliis in the Long. 

Poor, poor Lord Lincoln ! ! Yet perhaps his heavy sorrows 
are meant to ripen him for future holding of the helm of the 
State. So after all the mighty spring of half the life of the 
century is dried up. Wordsworth is dead ! Well ! I believe 
we shall find men to take his place, not altogether unworthily 
in course of time. There is a large committee of great names 
to collect subscriptions for a bust in Westminster Abbey, a 
monument at Grasmere, and some institution to his memory ; 
Maurice, Hare, and two others form the acting committee. 

On Tuesday last I had a sort of link to you, being at one 
end of that long belt of Lower Green Sand on the other end of 
which you are fixed ; all the vegetation is wonderfully fresh and 
warm upon it. 

Maurice told me that he hoped to have the first (ante- 
Christian) part of his History of Philosophy out in June, the 
est not for ever so long, as a vast deal would have to be done 
to it in the way of expansion, etc. He had entirely re-written 
the Jewish period, but intended only to touch up the Greek. 
1 Now the Rev. J. LI. Davies. 


I know nothing of the Warburtonian Lectures and Sermons on 
the Occasional Services except the advertisement; but Mac- 
millan has just had a note to say that he and Mrs. Maurice are 
ordered abroad by their medico for three months for health s 
sake. He laughs as far as regards himself, tho I am sure 
he greatly overworks himself, but his wife is certainly very ill. 
I have got Coleridge s new book, but not read much ; it is 
(except a few pages transcribed in Gillman s Life) entirely 
new, consisting of a gathering up, as complete as possible, of 
his articles in the Courier, Morning Post, etc., and his early 
Watchman effusions. These latter are wild enough, but fully 
bear out his protestation that he never was a Jacobin. At the 
end are a few new poems, chiefly epigrams. Void the best of 

In vain I praise thee, Zoilus, 

In vain thou railst at me. 
Me no one credits, Zoilus, 

And no one credits thee. 

I have F. Newman s Soul in hand, but find it awfully dull 
and saccharine and vapid. I have scarcely seen his new 
Phases of Faith (the last being, I suppose, New Moon ). They 
seem stronger, but full of the same placid, self-complacent, 
boudoir scepticism which exasperates me beyond measure. I 
have also a long while begun G. Sand s Lelta, in order to see 
her worst, but have made little way through its jungles of 
dreary Werterism, setting up people as the objects of the 
greatest interest almost worship in proportion to the amount 
of sins they have committed. 

I have a sort of fancy that I never told you of my having 
written to Maurice about three weeks before going to Bath, to 
ask about a course of Moral Philosophy reading, etc., and to 
know whether he still thought that Englishmen should attend 
more to Ethics than to Metaphysics. Just then I heard of the 
forthcoming Socialist Tracts, and added a postscript wishing 
him success, but protesting against the cant of praising the 
meritoriousness and benevolence of those who joined an 
association. At last I got an answer, which you shall see when 
you are with me, but is hardly worth sending unless you are 
methodically attacking the subject valuable enough for its 


own purposes, and containing some beautiful remarks on 
Plato and Aristotle. To the former, he says, he owes more 
than to any book but the Bible. I will transcribe what he 
says on Socialism ; of course he begins it in connexion with 
the previous subjects : 

" On the whole I should hold fast to Plato and Aristotle, 
and make the other books of the course illustrative of them. 
Our modern Socialist questions, which, as you say, must press 
more and more upon us, will, I conceive, present themselves 
to you again and again while you are busy with those ancients. 
And it is a grand thing to read the newspapers by the light of 
them, and them by the light of the newspapers. I send you 
my tract in this letter. You shall have the second soon. I 
do not suppose they will be read much, but they may set some 
people thinking who will do something better themselves. I 
do not wish to represent it as any merit in the working men 
to join a trading fraternity ; but neither do I think it is any 
merit to join a purely religious or benevolent fraternity. It 
seems to me the right thing to do both one and the other 
kind of work according to the Gospel, and that is all I see 
about it." 

On my return hither I wrote to thank him, and explained 
that I did not mean merit theologically, but could not ascribe 
moral excellence to what was done from motives of self- 
interest. A few days afterwards I went up to town, and of 
that visit I must now give you some account. Mackenzie 
was eating his term at Lincoln s Inn, and I agreed to run up 
on the Monday and go with him to see the Mediaeval Show 
(as Maurice called it). I wrote three or four days before to 
Maurice to ask what time I should find him at home on Mon 
day or Tuesday, knowing (and telling him) that he was not to 
be found at ordinary hours. He begged me to come to 
breakfast on Monday if I were so early in town, and at all 
events he would try to meet me at the Show, and I must 
take tea with him in the evening, when some barristers and 
others to whom he would like to introduce me met to 
read the Scriptures not at all in a formal way, and must 
breakfast with him the next morning. I knew of this 
Crotchet Club, as A. Macmillan calls it, and had chosen 


Monday with that view. I answered that I could not resist 
his whole invitation, and would go up on Sunday. Mean 
while the thought struck me, why not hear him preach as 
well ? And as I found A. Macmillan was going up on Sunday 
morning to attend a sale, I agreed to go with him. We de 
posited our luggage at Wood s, Furnival s Inn, secured beds, 
and sallied forth to look at Lincoln s Inn and the neighbour 
hood, and finally to go to service. We got in the pew 
diagonally furthest from Maurice, and he was already in his 
desk. It was a dark afternoon, and the stained glass was dim, 
and I would hardly believe that that was the Maurice of the 
portrait. His reading of the service did not seem to me nearly 
so marked and varied as you described and Blunt confirmed, 
but it was wonderfully beautiful ; not a particle of effect or 
mouthing, but the calmest, solemnest, yet never monotonous, 
prayer. The anthem was a long, dreary anthology of scraps 
from old English composers ; but it was curious to watch his 
face looking out into the chapel, with the dark hollows of his 
deep-set eyes strongly contrasted with the rest of his face in 
the sort of twilight. His text was i John i. 8, 9. . . . Such 
a sermon in every respect I never heard ; his quiet, deep voice, 
piercing you so softly and firmly through and through, never 
pausing or relaxing in its strain of eloquence, every syllable, 
as it were, weighted with the energy and might of his whole 
soul (and what a soul !), kept me crouched in a kind of spell, 
such as I could not have conceived. After chapel we dined 
and then went to see Ludovici (an odd Red Republican 
German artist of some genius, who was here for some time) at 
a curious foreign boarding-house ; and truly a more strange 
Sunday evening I never past : there were one or two male 
singing notabilities and Hurwitz, the great chess-player. The 
next (rainy) morning we were at Maurice s before nine ; he 
received me most kindly, and apologized that he had brought 
me unawares but unintentionally into a Socialist breakfast ; a 
committee had to meet, and his breakfast -table was most 
speedy and convenient. Accordingly I was introduced to 
Ludlow and one or two others (Hughes, a most glorious, free, 
hearty fellow Macmillan had introduced to me after chapel on 
Sunday). Ludlow, with his quiet, earnest, strong, gentle manner, 


pleased me much. Among the others were Vansittart Neale, 
who supplies most of the cash (he is cousin to Vansittart, who 
is now among the promoters, but was that day at Cambridge), 
and Chevallier, a French political economist. They are 
coming out with a book on the subject likely to be very 
strong, and to contain an honest attack on property, root and 
branch. Maurice s evanescent smiles and occasional quiet, 
overwhelming observations, the force of which they did not in 
the least perceive, amused me much. I had not much con 
versation with him then, but in his presence everything was 
delight. ... I called for Mackenzie in Wimpole Street, and 
thence to the Mediaeval Show, which certainly disappointed 
me, interesting as it was; I expected beauty of form and 
found none. Thence to the Old Water-Colours Exhibition, 
but any details of this and the Royal Academy I must re 
serve, or this letter will not be able to go to-night. Thence 
with him as far as Regent Circus, Oxford Street, whence we 
parted, and I to Lincoln s Inn. I had still some time before 
meeting Macmillan, so walked to the National Gallery to see 
John Bellini s Doge, and lounged there for half an hour ; 
thence joined Macmillan at Nutt s, went and dined and called 
on Furnival. He took us to see the Shoemakers and Tailors 
Associations. Thence to the Central Committee room in 
New Oxford Street, where Maurice presided over a large court 
of promoters, some of whom I fancied, others I didn t ; they 
received a third shoemakers deputation for an association. 
Thence we all walked, I coupled with Ludlow, to Maurice s 
house, it being past 9 P.M., and I had a great deal of most 
interesting talk with him (Ludlow), which I must also reserve, 
only saying that it enormously strengthened all my previous 
feeling and judgement against the system of Socialism. After 
tea Gen. xxii. was read, and Ludlow and Furnival made some 
critical remarks. Maurice said but little of course there was 
good in it but nothing particular. The next morning I went 
alone to Maurice s, and breakfasted quietly, no one being 
there but Mrs. Maurice (who was miserably ill, so that I could 
not judge much of her), a sort of governess, and his second 
boy (the eldest was gone to his day school), a most dear little 
fellow, who made great friends with me. I had much interest- 


ing talk with him, and still more as I half-walked half-cabbed 
with him to Harley Street, where he was going to Queen s 
College. Cambridge, Plato, etc., and the ecclesiastical horizon 
were our chief topics. Much that he said, on the last especi 
ally, will be interesting to you, but I must most reluctantly 
postpone it. He parted from me in the most cordial way. I 
then went to the Academy Exhibition, and spent some three 
hours there ; thence joined Macmillan at the sale, and finally 
dined and returned to Cambridge. I know I had much more 
to say besides what I have reserved, but I cannot at this 
moment remember what. 


NEWLAND, June 30^, 1850. 

. . . What an unspeakable loss we have sustained in 
poor Sir R. Peel ! It is very gratifying to see that the regret 
seems universal; I am sure, however, that his death was a 
necessary step to a new order of things. Gladstone is 
evidently not unconscious of his own position. His tone, and 
Lord John s to him, in the Foreign Affairs debate showed 
this ; so also the Dublin Mail, which is very well informed 
on Government affairs, said during the debate that Lord 
Stanley had been down to the House of Commons and had a 
long conference with Gladstone, and it was understood that 
they had formed a coalition. Moreover, Stanley has deserted 
the Protectionist squallers ; but I sincerely hope that Gladstone 
will not consent merely to head a party of Conservatives such 
as they were before Peel Liberalised them. 

I hope you are reading David Copperfield ; it is very 

But I must tell you something of my present locality. 
You perhaps know that the upper part of the district between 
the Wye and Severn is a small coal basin (though elevated 
ground) called the Forest of the Dean, and is royal property 
above ground. The course of the Wye below Ross to 
Chepstow lies along a range of mountain limestone, forming 
beautiful wooded hills, sometimes in cliffs and nearly always 


steep. At Monmouth, where a more level country opens into 
Herefordshire, disclosing a view of the distant Brecon moun 
tains, the Wye begins to run nearly due south, through hills of 
endless variety, but never interrupted by depressions. Our 
village is on the map about two miles and a half from Mon 
mouth (by road four and a half) ; exactly south-east of that 
town, but lying in Gloucestershire, about a mile and a half 
from the Wye ; I believe we are on Millstone grit, but there 
is limestone all round. We have the deepest and most 
beautiful wooded undulations, but less romantic than those 
close to the Wye. We are some two or three miles from the 
Forest, most of which is richly timbered, but we have seen 
very little of it. The drive to Chepstow is magnificent. 
Tintern is very beautiful, but disappointed me ; it seems all 
late Early English, but all the large windows are utterly 
gutted (I fancy, by Cromwell) except the west. Of course I 
have plenty to do in the way of plants, especially my favorite 
Rubi. Our village was called in Elizabeth s time the aristo- 
cratickal village of Newland, and there are now more gentle 
men s houses than others in the village, but the parish 
embraces a vast part of the Forest. Our church is a big late 
Perpendicular building, with countless vile changes and addi 
tions, but having a respectable tower ; it looks well in its noble 

The following letter has reference to the sufferings, 
physical and mental, of a friend, and may illustrate 
some characteristics of the writer, without knowledge of 
the particular circumstances : 



I scarcely know what to write to you, feeling how com 
pletely you must be occupied with the accounts of poor . 
Yet painfully harassing as this protracted duration of suffering 
cannot but be, we cannot at least we ought not to forget 
how often such sufferings are medicinal in all their bitterness, 


and are turned into blessed instruments of softening and 
purifying. Even the words in -- s letter of " more comfort 
of mind, as well as body," without attaching to them too much 
significance, do yet, I think, seem to support a strong hope 
that it is even so in this case. A mind disappointed and ill 
at ease with itself cannot pass through such fires uninfluenced 
the one way or the other ; if it be not driven in upon itself 
with tenfold bitterness swelling almost to madness, it must 
be suffering its dross to be purged away and approaching a 
more peaceful and happy state. But the truer and deeper the 
improvement, the less noise and outward trumpeting of it 
shall we hear ; we must be content with any chance intimation 
of the improvement that may reach us, here a little sign, 
and there a little sign. And even if we hear none at all, and 
can perceive from a distance no stirring of a genuine life, 
still we have no right nay, we should be presumptuous and 
impious to infer that there is no life there. I do not know 
what your experience in this matter is, but hardly a month 
passes without showing me how blind even the keenest-sighted 
of such judgements are. It is hardest to think well where there 
is manifest hypocrisy ; yet even there our uncharitable thoughts 
are often rebuked. But how much more reason have we to 
hope, where there is an outward crust of hardness, that there 
may be a well of life springing within ! There may be a long 
and weary strife, but remembering Who it is that is even now 
fighting, and that He is stronger than the devil (hard as it is 
to remember), how dare we despair of the victory? And 
then the last enemy that shall be overcome is Death. 


July zyd, 1850 [finished July 

... I hope you will be able to see the Exhibition before 
it closes. E. Landseer s large picture is a total failure; 
only individual details are good. His Good Doggie 
is excellent, and nothing more of his. As I have the 
Catalogue by me, it may save you some time if I mention 
a few of those, as far as I can remember them, which 


struck me most. Creswick s Wind on Shore is excellent. 
Frost s Disarming of Cupid and Pickersgill s Samson 
Betrayed are tolerable in a style that is bad unless first-rate ; 
the former is too lady s-maid-ish. Stanfield s Macbeth, 
the best in the Exhibition, and the only imaginative picture 
of his that I have ever seen ; a true natural mountain scene 
on a lowering day, the figures very (rightly) subordinate. 
Turner s three or four I hadn t time to try to see in the 
crowd, but think they would repay a week or two s study; 
they consist chiefly of effused Seville orange pulp. . . . The 
Water-Colours are rather poor. Gastineau s are, I think, 
the best, though some of Copley Fielding s quite rival his ; but 
I own I care little for any of them. Some of, I think, Fripp s 
would amuse you as miracles of colouring in a passion. 1 . . . 
Well, I must now try to recall some of Maurice s conversation 
when I was in London. He spoke of the University Com 
mission as capable of doing some good, and laught at Prince 
Albert having aught to say to it ; hoped they might hit upon 
some plan for allowing fellows or, at all events, tutors to 
marry, on the ground of the vast good an improved female 
society would do in the University. ... He asked what was 
the state of things in Cambridge ? I told him we were clogged 
and deadened by Via Mediaism. " In short, Eclecticism ? " he 
askt. Yes, I said ; it had, however, one advantage ; we 
were nearly free from party spirit. His answer was, " I am 
sure that is anything but a healthy sign among young men. 
It is just the same at Oxford ; all is stagnant and dead." I 
said, I fancied there had been something stirring in dough s 
line. No, he thought not ; there might be infidelity in 
plenty, but if so it was passive, stagnant infidelity. The only 
strong feeling he saw there was a general discontent of the 
younger men with everything, the University, and above all, 
with the apathy of the higher Dons. He talked a good deal 
of Crete s account of Socrates and the Sophists, especially his 
vindication (?) of the latter, agreeing with his facts, but think 
ing that they were precisely to be condemned for what Grote 
praised them for, viz. especially their aim to make the young 

1 These notes on pictures are selected from a long list of similar 


men clever and powerful by persuasion. He expatiated most 
lovingly on Socrates as the Athenian of Athenians, the man 
who above all others threw himself into the feelings and 
cravings of his age, especially of its young men ; and dwelt on 
the fact that, so far from being the sublimely abstracted and 
denationalized sage of Grote, he could not have been so 
mighty for all future ages and nations had he not been the 
man of his own age and nation. 

He did not talk much of the Gorham question, but hoped 
the Bishops might do something good ; he seemed chiefly 
pained and disappointed at what he called the want of con 
fidence of the High Churchmen in their own principle, the 
feeling they seemed to have that the truth was made more 
true or false by decisions of synods or judgements of courts. 
He spoke in very high terms of Thompson as a * solid, sub 
stantial man, and seemed greatly delighted at Whewell s 
having lately declared him to be the most valuable man in 
Cambridge. Hardly a word past on Socialism. 

I am afraid I have forgotten several subjects, but in one 
especially you will be interested. Altho you have said 
nothing, I have had a feeling that you fully shared with me the 
consciousness of how much reflexion was rendered necessary 
by the three or four last pages of his anonymous pamphlet on 
the Gorham case, I mean where he contemplates a secession 
in case the Government and Evangelicals should succeed in 
altering the Baptismal Services. I had been much perplext to 
discover the right course in such a case, and had been inclined 
to think that lay communion was the only right thing, as it 
seemed schismatical to leave the body of the Church because 
it had abolisht one of its former doctrines. I was determined, 
as I went with Maurice from his house to Harley Street, to 
sound him well, and get him to remove this objection if pos 
sible. Of course I did it very gently and cautiously, lest he 
should think I was hot-headedly agog for secession and a 
Mons Sacer, nor did I allude to the pamphlet. I spoke of the 
gloomy prospect, should the Evangelicals carry on their pre 
sent victory so as to alter the Services. He trusted God 
would spare us such a trial. I assented, but urged that it was 
a more than possible contingency. This he allowed, but 


exprest an opinion that there was dormant in the middle 
classes a most strong feeling which would resist a proclama 
tion that their children were Sons of the Devil. I trusted it 
might be so, but said that surely such a feeling was not now 
active, and that it would require such a preliminary event as 
the alteration of the Services to rouse the feeling into life, and 
that nothing but experience would show them what the denial 
of Baptism involved. To this he assented. I said that, if so, 
this middle-class resistance would avail but little, in the first 
instance, to ward off the calamity. What did he think we 
should be bound to do in such a case ? He at last (the whole 
was reluctant, evidently from the fear I have already mentioned, 
manifested in the pamphlet) said he feared we must give up the 
emoluments of the Church. I said that was not what I was 
thinking of, but I felt it hard to decide whether or not it were 
schism so to leave the body. He said that undoubtedly to 
cut oneself off would be schism ; that he had always contended 
that the act must be our adversaries , not our own (this he had 
already more than once repeated). Then, I supposed, he con 
sidered the alteration of the Services as such a schismatical act ? 
" Doubtless," he said ; " it would be declaring themselves held 
together not by sacraments but opinions." "Then," I said, 
" if I understand you right, you think that by such an act they 
would be voluntarily cutting themselves off from the body 
of the Church, and declaring themselves to be only a sect, 
inasmuch as they would be professing that the ground of their 
communion was not union in the body of Christ, but the 
accident of their holding intellectually the same opinions." 
" Exactly," was his answer. (I cannot be sure of the words ; 
the sense I have given correctly). Much subsequent reflexion 
has convinced me that his view is right, and that by such an 
act the Establishment would float off on its own raft, leaving 
us standing as before on the rock of our old Catholic ground. 

I wish I could remember well my very interesting conversa 
tion with Ludlow as we walked from the Central Association 
Office in New Oxford Street to Maurice s house. I can recall 
but two or three points. I remember saying, "Then you 
regard the relation of employer to employed as essentially evil, 
and would do your utmost to destroy it altogether?" "Certainly 



I object altogether to the relation of master and hired servant, 
for this reason, that the hire or wages will always be dependent 
on the rate of wages in the market." "But supposing the 
amount of wages in any case not to depend on the market rate?" 
" I cannot entertain such a supposition, because wages always 
must be regulated by the market rate." I prest him no further 
here, being quite satisfied at having made a profest assailer of 
political economy doctrines entirely rest his support of one of 
the main elements of Socialism upon an assumed axiom of 
political economy, which goes on the assumption that selfish 
ness is the law of men s actions ! Again, I urged that I fully 
adopted the Christian principle of co-operation, but repudiated 
the Socialistic scheme as substituting a mechanical for a moral 
co-operation ; that I thought a real fellow-working was chiefly, 
if not only, possible under the old so-called competitive 
machinery. To this he replied that practically, as men are 
selfish, mutual assistance and co-operation, springing from 
merely moral motives instead of from machinery, are impos 
sible. Another strange confession ! Further, I asked him 
whether he wished to carry out the machinery to the utmost 
and universally. " Doubtless." " Then have you thought of the 
time when individual tradesmen shall have been swallowed up 
into a number of trading associations ? Will there not then 
be a competition between rival associations infinitely more 
terrible and crushing than the present competition of indivi 
duals ? or how will you be able to blend the associations ? " 
" That," said he, " is the rock ahead of Christian Socialism. 
I do not see my way at all through those difficulties ; only, 
feeling sure that we are on the right way, I trust that, when 
the time comes, we shall be guided to what is right." He 
further added that Co-operation was not intended to stand 
alone without Exchange, and that the latter principle would 
remove some of these difficulties. " Exchange ! " I exclaimed ; 
" that is quite new to me. I never heard before of Exchange 
in connexion with Socialism ; that is an element so totally new 
and important, that I must take time to think about it." 
" Why ! we always look on Exchange as essential to Co-opera 
tion." He then turned round to A. Macmillan, who was 
walking behind with Furnival, and shouted, " Macmillan, have 


you never told Hort about the principle of Exchange in con 
nexion with Socialism ? " " No," he shouted back, " I don t 
know anything about it, and I don t want ; Socialism is enough 
for me ! " Ludlow laughed, but by this time we were more 
than half down Queen s Square, and the conversation ceased. 
One or two more things. Some one said that Kingsley either 
had just had, or was just going to have, a long controversial 
correspondence on the subject with J. S. Mill. Maurice told 
me that he heard that throughout the manufacturing districts 
the men were beginning to find that machinery (material) was 
really their friend, and that its seeming injuries must be re 
butted by changes in the relations of employment. Mrs. 
Maurice told me that of the many poor needlewomen who 
had been to her to be examined, not above three or four were 
even tolerable workers. I wish much to hear more about this 
* Exchange, but shall not, I suppose, till Chevallier s lectures 
are published ; at present it seems to me negative to the idea 
of Socialism. I have never yet been able to ascertain from 
any of you wherein the Socialistic part, i.e. the machinery of 
Christian Socialism, differs from that of other Socialism ; 
the moral principle of co-operation I fully recognise, but think 
that Maurice makes his definition deceptive and arbitrary by 
including it. I told them at the Office that they must con 
sider me as a spy in the enemy s camp. Furnival protested 
that this was not true, and that, as I allowed their principle, 
I was really a * Christian Socialist ; doubtless I fall under 
Maurice s verbal definition, but utterly repudiate the name, as 
I am not what you all understand by it. 

This letter has been kept shamefully long ; I was at Bath 
all last week. Sunday evening and Monday I was tortured 
with toothache, and nearly maddened on Tuesday, so I went 
in all speed to Cheltenham and had the offender extracted, 
returning to-day (July 3ist) to Newland. I am sorry to see 
the Exhibition is closed already. I have not yet seen Words 
worth s new poem. I observe the new Christian Observer 
has a review of Kingsley s Sermons. How magnificent and 
humiliating Carlyle s Hudson s Statue is ! I have not yet 
been able to get hold of either the June or July Pendennis. 
Well, I am getting sleepy, so will say good-night.J 



WESTON-SUPER-MARE, September i2th, 1850. 

... I have got Emerson s last book, but only dipt; his 
remarks on Plato seemed acute taken singly, but I thought his 
whole idea of him absolutely false ; he seemed to try to make 
out the most 7xre/3?js of the antients to be an atheist like unto 
himself. As for Maurice writing in the Leader, Ch. Words 
worth is about as likely ; even Open Council is not much 
in his way. The letter on Queen s College is indeed wonder 
ful and valuable ; I wish he oftener spoke out in like manner. 
Ludlow s in Fraser was very inferior, tho good. I forget 
whether I ever recommended to you Massingberd s pamphlet 
on W. Goode s publication of P. Martyr s letter. It is most 
excellent and of great permanent value, as showing the real 
behaviour of Cranmer, etc., as to Baptism ; I need not say it 
is at once charitable and most hearty. I gave up the Hulsean 
because the necessary reading was impracticable even had I 
been at Cambridge ; and I could not carry down a library into 
the country. The Burney * subject is, The unity of design 
displayed in the successive dispensations of religion recorded 
in Scripture, as an argument for the truth of Revelation. I 
have written a few pages, expanding the passage quoted pp. 
21, 22 of Maurice s letter on revelation, general to all mankind, 
as well as special (as in the Bible) to the Jews and Christian 
Church ; then I am about asking what kinds of revelation 
demand an unity ; not the mere teaching of practical sagacity, 
nor the Paleyan notion of future rewards and punishments ; 
but that we cannot give an answer about the higher wisdom 
(whether a revelation of that demands an unity) till we find 
what is its object, Truth; in short, that what gives all its 
unity to Revelation is that its central subject is the Being of 
God. I then hope to trace the development of this revelation 
through the dispensations of the Bible, showing how all 
is connected with the gradual disclosure of the full Name of 
God. I am writing very soberly, but fear I shall be too 
philosophical in language for them. 

I am not going in for the Fellowship. 

1 The Burney prize is for a theological essay, and is open to graduates. 

AGE 22 



The next two letters are to a friend who was per 
plexed with conscientious difficulties about the marriage 
of the clergy. 


NEWLAND, June 1850. 

... I think I can enter into your present feeling. You 
fully concur, I fancy, in all that I said about the wrong of 
setting for oneself a special saint-morality which will not fit 
other people ; but still you feel that at all hazards, at the risk 
of any conceivable inconsistency, you cannot conscientiously 
do that which seems now so often to lead to sin and misery. 
You find no reconciliation of this present war of your con 
science and reason ; only do not assume that the reconciliation 
is impossible or, at all events, impracticable for you. God 
cannot be the author of anomaly, but to those who wait for 
the light He will in His own way show the Harmony and 
Order which He has establisht. Do not then, whatever 
present appearances may be, take it for granted that God 
demands of you to contravene His earliest law for man, 
" It is not good for the man to be alone," but believe firmly 
that His Truth cannot be shaken by all the lies of men and 
devils, and that in due time He will make known to you 
His Will concerning you and all men in the way which shall 
seem to Him good ; and, believing this, you will not willingly 
set up any theory or resolution which may hereafter blind 
your eyes from discerning His ways, or clog your feet from 
following them. 


NEWLAND, October $th, 1850. 

. . . With regard to Luke xx. 27-38 and the parallel pas 
sages, I merely meant that our Lord, when asked vexatious 
questions by the Pharisees or Sadducees, hardly ever or 
never gave them real answers, but either made expressly ad 
hominem appeals, or asserted some truth which in some manner 
superseded the question, or showed that there were more im- 


portant ones ; thus I infer that our Lord s words here were not 
meant as an answer to the Sadducees question, as they would 
have been had they been given to the disciples. At all 
events I must remind you that, except by remote inference, 
the verses will not support your theory, for tho yapova-iv and 
eKya/xto-Kovrat should deny that marriages are made after 
death, they certainly cannot assert anything about the dissolu 
tion of previously -made marriages. The passage is most 
hard, nor do I expect to understand it till I can see more of 
the relation of sex to the image of God. The difficulty is 
greatly increased by the way in which v. 36 is made to support 
v. 35. Our translators were not scholars enough to see that 
they were destroying the true connexion by missing the force 
of ovre yap- 

The self-anatomy you speak of may surely be either 
good or evil; to be free from it altogether, as is the case 
with many of the noblest women, is no doubt a blessing, 
and suited to their nature. I much doubt whether it be 
the same with men ; a more distinct introspection of our 
own motives and feelings seems natural to us, and we are 
likely to go wrong without it. On the other hand, it is apt to 
become a dangerous and morbid trick, when its predomi 
nance makes the judgement chiefly analytical ; then we come 
practically to look upon ourselves as a collection of wheels 
and springs, moved mechanically by motives, and we are 
suspicious and jealous of ourselves in a way the reverse of true 
Christian humility and watchfulness, misinterpreting our best 
and noblest impulses either by persuading ourselves that they 
are merely imaginary, or by resolving them into corrupt 
wishes. We then act in the same way towards others, especi 
ally those who may be in, or may be brought into, any near 
relation to ourselves, mistrusting in them all that is not com 
prehensible. Yet I doubt not that self-anatomy is in some 
form needful to deliver us from carnal delusions ; and wisely- 
tempered self-consciousness, if it has its miseries, may also 
.bring blessings unspeakable both on ourselves and on those 
who have it not. True knowledge is neither of parts nor of 
wholes exclusively, but of each in each. And they must be 
very peculiar and miserable circumstances indeed that can 


ever make blindness a blessing or a thing to be desired ; kv Se 
</>aet KOL oXecro-ov is of universal application. Hence the 
venerable fancy of making Love blind always seems to me 
rather a half-falsehood than a half-truth. It suits the Panthe 
istic leaven now spread everywhere to picture God as tolerant 
of evil, sorry for it, but too much averse to giving pain to use 
stern remedies for its extirpation, and this, forsooth, because 
He is Love ! Yet surely He whose love is best exprest in the 
sacrifice of His Son must, by the very force of His love, have 
the keenest vision and the intensest hatred of any, even the 
least spot of sin in the children whom He loves. . . . Again, 
tho in the picture you have drawn instinct may stop 
short, reason need not ply her office alone, but take the 
child instinct by the hand, whose eyes may often see things 
hidden from the wise and prudent. If reason, so accom 
panied, find it hard to tell whether what she views be merely 
fancy s brook, that may soon be waterless and dry, or 

The gift for which, all gifts above, 
Him praise we, who is God, the Giver, 

it may indeed be true love, yet, it would seem, it must be 
so immature and imperfect thrt reason may safely ponder 
whether it be advisable to let it ripen ; if so, vogue la gaftre / 
if not, crushing may be a duty j but, however painful at first, 
it is not likely to leave permanent rankling. I do not mean 
that even the riper gift must not sometimes needs be trodden 
down, but then much more than { advisableness is requisite ; 
this, methinks, must often be God s last gracious hammer to 
bruise a stubborn and flinty heart. 


CAMBRIDGE, October 2Q///, 1850. 

... I send you by this post Alton Locke^ thinking you 
may like to read it. Of course either of our Bepton friends 
are welcome to do the same, though I am not sure that it is 
the wholesomest food imaginable. During the early part I 
was intensely delighted, though driven nearly to desperation 


every other page with something which disgusted me. The 
middle I was rather indifferent to, though of course much in 
terested in it ; but the last six chapters left me in a most un 
comfortable and annoyed state of mind. I cannot at all take 
to her Ladyship, your namesake ; she is apparently intended 
as a sort of female Maurice, but she only disgusts me. And all 
that theology at the end, true as much of it was, seemed quite 
stagnant as I read it, so different from the burning words in 
Yeast, that used to make me almost bound from the floor at 
the Union. The chapter on Miracles seems a strange perver 
sion of a beautiful idea of Maurice s, or of Trench s, or of 
both ; but, taken by itself, as far as I understand it, it denies 
miracles. And, in spite of all the talk about God, I do I 
grieve to say it feel that the idea of Him is wholly absent 
from the book, except in bits of Sandy Mackaye. The book 
is pure Humamtarianism, with God as the instrument to bring 
it about. But Sandy Mackaye is almost always thoroughly 
delightful ; he is no mere portrait of Carlyle, but Kingsley 
evidently had him in his mind all the while. You will 
chuckle greatly over the Emersonian sermon. Kingsley is 
cruelly unjust to Lillian. Granted that she is frivolous, she 
need not be so always ; surely her type of character is a neces 
sary and beautiful one, albeit not the highest by many degrees ; 
and then the absurdity of that serene imperial Eleanore 
telling Alton that he had been in love only with her physical 
beauty. Granted that the difference of their stations made 
him to feel chiefly adorative admiration such as (even as 
Kingsley observes) that felt by the Greek youth for the 
statue, still that was not all. Surely Alton would any day 
have risked his life for hers in a way he would not have done 
for any other human creature, and we are assured it was a 
most pure feeling. Why then give him such a pedantic joba 
tion ? The book grieves me much. 

The heathenish old porch in front of St. Mary s is knocked 
away, and a really beautiful, though almost too elaborate, Per 
pendicular doorway put in its place. 

I may mention in passing that we had on Sunday night 
c Plead thou my cause, and I was raised, I verily believe, to 
the tenth heaven. 



CAMBRIDGE, December yd, 1850. 

I did not send in for the Burney after all; I 
found it very hard to move on without infinitely more thought 
than twas possible to bestow. ... At Degree Time I am to 
get new rooms, second floor NevilPs Court, the first staircase 
from the arches going towards the Hall; they are exactly 
what I wanted. 

. . . Lees of Christ s, who has been reading with Kingsley, 
describes a rich scene. Maurice was there at Eversley for two 
nights, and on one of them the house was attacked by burglars. 
The noise made by our heroes in getting up dispersed them, 
but as their dodge is to wait till inmates are sounder asleep 
after the first disturbance, they resolved to sit up all night 
with a light ; so there sat our dear sage in his trousers and 
shirt, with his sleeves turned up ready for action. The others 
had each their cigar and brandy and water, and with the 
greatest difficulty got him to join them in the latter. Oh, 
what would I have given to see it ? 


NEWLAND, Christmas Eve, 1850. 

Though this cannot reach you till the 26th or 27th, I 
must not omit to send a line to wish you all the blessings of 
this season of life in the midst of death. . . . 

These Advent lessons and anthems do indeed, as you say, 
thunder the Law and whisper the Gospel in our ears. I had 
to read two Sundays ago Isa. xxvi. in Chapel. It was hard 
not to make a fool of one s self; those verses, the i2th, i3th, 
1 5th, i yth, culminating in the i8th, and answered by the voice 
from heaven of the ipth, and then the Athanasian chant of 
the 2oth and 2ist, wedding Advent to Christmas, the triumph 
of judgement to the angels song of peace and goodwill. 
Well, the day of the Nativity is begun, and I must go to bed. 

Have you seen Maurice s delicious letters on Education in 
the Christian Socialist ? I will send the Leaders when I get 
to Cambridge, which will probably be in a fortnight. 



1851-1857. Age 22-29. 

THE year 1851 saw the introduction at Cambridge of 
the new Triposes in Moral and in Natural Sciences, 
for both of which Hort entered, and in each of which 
he was placed in the First Class ; in the former he 
obtained the Moral Philosophy prize, and in the latter 
he was distinguished in Physiology and Botany. 
The examinations themselves were severe ; in each 
there were set, on one of the days, two papers of four 
hours each, and there was an interval of only a few 
weeks between the Triposes. Nor were these his only 
examinations in the year ; he competed in October 
for a fellowship, and, four days after the conclusion 
of that ordeal, entered on the Voluntary Theological 
Examination. His own letters give sufficient account 
of the scope of the new Triposes, as also of his com 
parative failure in the fellowship examination. The 
amount of reading got through in this and the pre 
ceding year must have been enormous. Yet he found 
time to attend the meetings of various societies, and 
in June joined the mysterious company of the 
Apostles. The first paper which he contributed 
was on the subject Might is Right, in defence of 



Carlyle. The titles of other papers read by him 
were : Can Pope teach our young poets to sing ? (a 
criticism of a dictum of C. Kingsley) ; * Is government 
an evil ? (a defence of authority) ; * Must the giants 
live apart ? (on a saying of Thackeray) ; * Is irony 
less true than matter of fact ? * Is wealth the founda 
tion of rank ? Should all honours be given to the 
horrible ? Can anything be proved by Logic ? 
Most of these were not so much essays as challenges 
to discussion, couched in a paradoxical form. He 
remained always a grateful and loyal member of the 
secret Club, which has now become famous for the 
number of distinguished men who have belonged to it. 
In his time the Club was in a manner reinvigorated, 
and he was mainly responsible for the wording of the 
oath which binds the members to a conspiracy of silence. 
Mr. Vernon Lushington remembers that at the Apostles 
meetings he considered Hort "the most remarkable 
figure of our time," and that he " always spoke very 
seriously on these occasions." That he considered his 
membership as a great responsibility is shown by the 
fact that, before consenting to join, he asked Maurice s 
advice. 1 

Two other societies of widely different aims were 
started in this same year, in both of which Hort 
seems to have been the moving spirit ; one a small 
club formed for the practice of choral music, the 
other called by its members the Ghostly Guild/ 

1 A good account of the Club, whose proper name is the Cam 
bridge Conversazione Society, is given in Mr. Leslie Stephen s Life oj 
Sir J. Fitzjames Stephen (pp. 99 foil.); he refers to a historical article 
by Mr. W. D. Christie in Macmillarfs Magazine for November 1864. 
A description of it was given recently by the late Hon. Roden Noel in 
the New Review. This paper contained some very inaccurate statements 
about Hort, for which Mr. Roden Noel afterwards expressed his regret. 


the object of which was to collect and classify authen 
ticated instances of what are now called * psychical 
phenomena/ for which purpose an elaborate schedule 
of questions was issued. The Bogie Club/ as scoffers 
called it, aroused a certain amount of derision, and 
even some alarm ; it was apparently born too soon. 

A Shakespeare Society must also be added to the 
list ; and, as Hort s attendance at meetings of these 
various kinds seems from his journal to have been 
regular, one finds little difficulty in believing that 
work must sometimes have been driven into very 
unconventional hours. At this time, if not earlier, 
began the habit of sitting up far into the night, a 
habit for which his friends continually rebuked him, 
which left permanent ill effects on his health, and 
which he afterwards bitterly regretted. He never 
spoke of it but to point a warning. On one occasion 
he went to sleep in the small hours over his books, 
and his Facciolati caught fire from a candle ; the 
consequences were within a little of being serious. 
His friends, coming in to see him in the morning, were 
often confronted with a notice bidding his bedmaker 
not to call him till mid-day. 

In politics the movement which most interested him 
at this time was Christian Socialism ; the subject was 
debated at the Union, and he was chiefly responsible 
for an amendment (which was carried) condemning the 
substitution of Socialism for the present trade while 
allowing possible benefit from single associations. 
The Christian Socialist newspaper he read regularly, 
and contributed to it in October 1851 an interesting 
Prayer for Landlords of the sixteenth century, which 
he had discovered in Professor Blunt s History of 
the Reformation. About the same time there was 


great excitement in Cambridge on the subject of 
* Papal Aggression, and an indignation meeting at 
the Union approved Lord John Russell s conduct. 
Hort was strongly opposed to the whole agitation. 
A few months later he rejoiced in the fall of Lord 
John Russell s ministry. The future of the Irish 
Church was a subject much in his mind, and the 
duties of the English Church towards it. In January 
1852, when he was under twenty-four years of age, 
he wrote a letter to a friend suggesting what he con 
sidered the right course for the English bishops to 
take ; this letter was shown to the Bishop of Oxford 
(S. Wilberforce), and drew from him a careful and 
courteous answer. 

Among the notable experiences of 1851 were the 
Great Exhibition, hearing the * Elijah at Exeter 
Hall and two operas at Covent Garden, and Thack 
eray s Lectures on the English Humorists at Cam 
bridge. In the summer Hort saw much of Maurice, 
and was introduced by him to Archdeacon Hare. At 
Cambridge he gained a new and abiding friendship, 
that of Henry Bradshaw, who, as well as Mr. B. F. 
Westcott and Mr. G. M. Gorham, belonged to the 
Choral Society ; another musical friend was Mr. R. 
B. Litchfield, and he saw much also of George 
Brimley, whose acute intellect he warmly appreciated ; 
and of Mr. W. Mathews, his companion a few years 
later in many Alpine excursions. The history of his 
friendship with Charles Kingsley may be gleaned 
from the long and interesting letter written to him on 
24th February in the brief interval between two Tripos 
examinations. A few days of the long vacation were 
spent in an excursion to Newport (Monmouth), Caer- 
leon, etc., in company with Mr. Babington and mem- 


bers of the Archaeological Institute. He reviewed, 
besides other botanical books, the third edition of 
Babington s British Flora in the Annals of Botany , 
and in the Guardian Mr. Westcott s first publication 
on the Elements of a Gospel Harmony. The latter 
notice concludes with the words : " We trust that 
this will not be Mr. Westcott s last contribution to our 
stock of exegetical divinity." 

In one of the latest letters of 1851 will be 
observed what are, perhaps, the first signs of interest 
in the text of the Greek Testament, the subject which 
was to claim his chief attention for little less than 
thirty years. 

The year 1852 was for the most part quietly spent 
in reading at Cambridge, from which he seems not to 
have been absent for more than three weeks at a time 
all the year. His only holidays, except short botanical 
excursions, were visits to his father s new home at 
Chepstow ; to Mr. Gerald Blunt, now married and settled 
at his first curacy ; and . to London for the annual 
Apostles dinner, where he met a distinguished Apostle 
of an earlier generation, W. Monckton Milnes (after 
wards Lord Houghton), with whom he breakfasted next 

Success in the Fellowship examination could hardly 
be doubtful after his performance the year before. The 
others elected were C. Schreiber, W. J. Beamont, and 
J. B. Lightfoot, the first two of whom had been placed 
second and third (bracketed with Hort) respectively in 
the Classical Tripos of 1850. At the customary 
* Fellowship Dinner to celebrate his election Hort 
entertained W. G. Clark, E. A. Scott, C. B. Scott, 
A. A. Vansittart, G. Brimley, W. W. Howard, H. W. 
Watson, C. Schreiber, J. B. Lightfoot, H. M. Butler, 


G. V. Yool, G. M. Gorham, J. D. Williams, F. V. 
Hawkins, H. Bradshaw, and W. D. Freshfield. 

Besides work for the Fellowship examination, Hort 
spent much time over an essay for the Hulsean Prize 
on the Evidences of Christianity as exhibited in the 
writings of the early Apologists down to Augustine 
inclusively. He had meant if successful to work up 
his essay into a book. 1 On its original scope he wrote 
as follows in a letter to the Rev. W. Cureton, asking 
for information about early apologetic literature con 
tained in unpublished manuscripts in the British 
Museum : 

Half the essay, according to my plan, is to consist of a 
critical and historical account of the different Apologies, in 
the widest sense of the word, containing original abstracts, 
with occasional extracts, of the extant works, translations of all 
the more important fragments, all the particulars that I can 
glean respecting lost works, and in each case such biographical 
details as may illustrate and enliven the subject, the whole 
being set in a continuous brief narrative of the persecutions 
and other outward occasions of Apologies, and of the suc 
cessive relations in which Paganism and Judaism stood to the 
Christian Church and vice versa. This is an ambitious scheme, 
too large to carry out altogether in the first instance . . . 
but Jmy idea is to treat the ante-Eusebian period in the way 
described as fully as I can, and give a much slighter and more 
superficial account of the second period. It is not likely that 
any one else will follow so elaborate a plan, and therefore I 
may have a reasonable chance of success ; in that event I 
should wish to complete the second period on the same scale 
as the first before publication. 

1 The MS. of this essay is still extant, and, being found to contain 
valuable matter of permanent interest, is likely to be (in part) reproduced ; 
it is in the hands of Prof. Armitage Robinson. 

One of Hort s earliest articles in \hejoumal of Classical and Sacred 
Philology, that on the Date of Justin Martyr, was an expansion of a note 
made for the same essay. 


Maurice, who was delighted with the Introduction, 
wrote to Hort about his essay as follows : 

You must think again of your division of heresies. I do 
not say that it is wrong, but it requires a good deal of reflection 
before you put it forth even roughly. I should be disposed 
a little to expand what you have said about internal and 
external evidence ; it is a point which requires so much clear 
ing to make people aware of your meaning. You are on the 
right tack, I am convinced. The external evidences of the 
last century substituted Nature, or at best a Demiurgus, for 
God. The reaction against that mischievous dogma is the 
substitution of human intuitions, or at best the Reason from 
which they flow, for God. The Living and True God reveals 
Himself to the Reason ; that is the Mesothesis of the external 
and internal. The idea of Revelation in the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries was the announcement of certain decrees, 
imperative Laws enacted by God. In the nineteenth it is the 
discovery of an endless flux, of which the source is in the 
creature energy of man. The gospel of God concerning Him 
self in His Son is, as you have happily indicated, the recon 
ciliation of two ideas each of which by itself tends to Atheism 
and to superstition. 

The prize did not fall to Hort ; his friend J. F. 
Stephen also competed unsuccessfully. Hort s defeat 
was a considerable mortification ; more important, how 
ever, than success or failure in this particular competition 
was the impetus given, by reading the necessary books, 
to his desire to devote himself to the study of ecclesias 
tical history, and that on a scale very different from that 
of most Church histories. The subject was not new to 
him, but his ideas were now beginning to take definite 
shape. The breadth of the scheme which he proposed 
to himself is seen in the important letter to Ellerton of 
1 4th November- 1 4th December 1852. Perhaps the 
realisation of such a plan is beyond the grasp of one 


man ; perhaps also he was the one man who could 
approximately have carried it out. Forty years later 
the stores of various knowledge had been accumulated, 
and, had he possessed greater readiness of expression, 
some noble fragment of the great design might have 
been given to the world. 

By the end of 1852 therefore it is possible to dis 
tinguish two chief lines of future study now becoming 
clearer in his mind : the Text and Interpretation of 
the New Testament, and Early Church History in the 
widest sense. When accordingly, on becoming a 
Fellow of Trinity, he settled down to work at Cam 
bridge, it was with the definite conviction that a student s 
life was that for which he was best fitted. To live, 
however, altogether at Cambridge was never part of 
his plan, nor, as will be seen, did he regard active 
parochial work, to which he looked forward by and bye, 
as incompatible with the pursuit of the above objects. 
For the present he was content to remain at Trinity, 
reading and taking pupils, and was perhaps rather freer 
than before to enter into the varied intellectual life of 
the University. The value of this graduate period he 
always estimated highly, for the sake both of what a 
graduate may then best learn, and of what he may 
be in his relations with younger men. 

In the October term of 1852 he was President of 
the Union. Between the years 1846 and 1852 he 
appears to have made twenty-four speeches at Union 
debates ; he defended the Crusades, upheld the poetical 
merits of Tennyson, and slighted those of Byron ; ex 
pressed sympathy with the Continental * progressive 
movement of 1 848, condemned Palmerston s policy 
on the Greek question (1850), approved of the prin 
ciples of Carlyle s Latter-Day Pamphlets, maintained 



the superiority of the novelists of ( this generation to 
those of the last. In questions of party politics he 
spoke most often on subjects connected with Convoca 
tion, the Irish Church, and colonial policy. 

It may be of interest here to collect Hort s con 
tributions (besides reviews) to botanical publications ; 
I am indebted for the following list to an obituary 
notice in the Journal of Botany for February 1893, by 
Mr. G. S. Boulger, who remarks that " forty years ago 
Hort might have been styled one of the rising hopes 
of the Cambridge school of botanists." 

In the second vol. of the Phytologist (pp. 1047-9) 
appear a * Notice of a few Plants growing at Weston- 
super-Mare, and a Note on Centaurea nigra, var. 
radiata and C. nigrescensl both bearing date November 
5th, 1847, when the young undergraduate was not yet 
twenty ; and in the third vol. (pp. 321-2) is a ( Note on 
Alsine rubra, var. media Bab./ dated Torquay, Sept. 
27th, 1848. In the first vol. of Henfrey s Botanical 
Gazette (1849), pp. 197, 200, he has a paper On 
Viola sylvatica and caninaj and in the second vol. 
(1850), pp. I, 2, a Notice on Potamogeton fluitans Roth 
and Ulex Gallii Planch. 

In 1851 he found time to publish, in the third vol. 
of the Botanical Gazette (pp. 15-17) a note On 
Euphorbia stricta and platyphyllal and in the same 
volume (pp. 155-7) appears a Note on Athyrium 
filix-femina, var. latifolium? dated November I2th, 
1851, which was reprinted in the PUytologist, vol. iv. 
pp. 440-2. To this year also belongs his paper On 
a supposed new Species of Rubus* (Rubus imbricatus 
Hort), which appeared in the Annals and Magazine of 
Natural History of the Botanical Society of Edinburgh 
(vol. iv. pp. 1 1 3-6), to which it had been communi- 

AGE 22 



cated. In the fourth vol. of the Phytologist (1852), 
pp. 640-1, is a note by him on the Occurrence of 
Orobanche ccerulea Vill. and Aconitum Napellus L. in 
Monmouthshire, dated July 2ist, 1852 ; and a Note 
on the Third Volume of Mr. H. C. Watson s Cybele 
Britannica^ frankly corrected some blunders that had 
found their way into that work from his own list of 
Weston-super-Mare plants. He appears in Topo 
graphical Botany as a correspondent of Watson s from 
no less than eleven vice-counties, viz. North Somerset, 
East and West Gloucester, Monmouth, Merioneth, 
Carnarvon, North Lancashire and Westmoreland, 
Cumberland, Durham, West Suffolk, and Cambridge. 

His Cambridge friend and contemporary, the Rev. 
W. W. Newbould, used always to speak of Hort s 
abandonment of botany in favour of biblical studies 
in much the same manner as Watson regretted that 
Edward Forbes " attention had been drawn from 
botany to the more showy studies, in which he became 


CAMBRIDGE, February $rd, 1851. 

My dearest Mother I hope you will forgive me if you find 
me brief and stupid to-night, for indeed I have good reason 
for it, having been to-day in at two examination papers of four 
hours each, which is heavy work. . . . 

I am quite comfortable in my new rooms, though the floor 
is still encumbered with books, as the shelves are not all right 
yet, and the Tripos has kept me too busy to think of much 
else. I have two windows looking north into Nevile s Court, 
and one looking south into the New Court, which is very com 
fortable. 1 ... I am quite ashamed to let such a letter go, but 

1 The rooms were in Nevile s Court, Staircase C, first floor. 


if you knew how my ears are full of Springs of Human 
Action, Things Allowable, Price, Circulating Capital, 
Rent of Land, etc., and how dismal and dismal-making this 
drizzly night is, you would be indulgent. Ever, my dearest 
mother, your affectionate son, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 7^, 1851. 

My dear Ellerton I really don t know how long I have 
been silent, but I am afraid it has been some considerable 
fraction of a century. I suppose it was first the theoretical 
preparation for the Moral Tripos, and then the actual prepara 
tion, and finally, the Tripos itself that withheld me. Whatever 
it was, it was unpardonable. As I have mentioned the Tripos, 
I may as well go on. It began on Monday, 9-1, with a 
good paper of WheweH s, which I did very fairly ; 2-6, Pryme s 
Political Economy, of which I thought myself lucky to do half, 
as I had spent (irrespective of a chapter or two in the summer) 
just half an hour upon it. Tuesday, 9-12, Maine, General 
Jurisprudence, a capital paper, of which I did about half; 
1-4, a detestable mass of bad poetry, puns, and anecdotic 
gossip, with a screed or two of absurd law, called Laws of 
England. Wednesday, 9-2, History: Gibbes, corrected by 
Sir J. Stephen, whereof I did about half. Yesterday, 9-2, 
General Paper, nominally Holden, but each subject set by its 
professor. I did all the Moral Philosophy very fully, about 
half the History, and two or three scraps of the other things. 
There have been but five of us in : Mackenzie and A. Wilson 
of Trinity, Bruce of Jesus, and Pooley of Christ s. I don t 
know when the lists will be out. I shall look for them rather 
anxiously, as I hope I have a fair chance of a Whewell (Moral 
Philosophy) prize. I am now going to read for the Natural 
Science Tripos, which I hope I shall be much better prepared 
for ; it comes on March 3rd. I have plenty of work before 
me, as I mean to make a desperate effort for my Fellowship 
this time, and I have to read lots for the Voluntary, Justin 
Martyr, Apol. I., being the Patristic subject. Likewise there 


are the Siren voices of two essays the Hulsean, on the 
extinction of Paganism in connexion with the evidences of 
Christianity, and the Members Prize, Why the Reformation 
got no further in Europe ; both alluring, especially the 
former, which I should like to treat by showing how all that 
Julian and Proclus, and Plotinus and Celsus, etc., could do 
by piecing Paganism with what people nowadays call the 
kernel of Christianity was of no avail, but only faith in the 
living, dying, and risen Nazarene. 

Talking of essays, Westcott is just coming out with his 
Norrisian on The Elements of the Gospel Harmony. I 
have seen the first sheet on Inspiration, which is a wonderful 
step in advance of common orthodox heresy. He has a full 
catena from the Ante-Nicene Fathers on the subject. Alto 
gether, I doubt not, it will be a most valuable book. 

February i oth. The scrap 1 which I sent you on Saturday 
will have told you the result of the Moral Examination. It is 
a bore that they have not placed us alphabetically, as they 
seemed to promise, but certainly I do not deserve to be higher, 
if reading is any criterion of merit, and after all it is a first 
class, so I don t care, especially as I have got what I most 
cared for, the Moral Philosophy prize, which I shall value in 
many ways ; it is likely to get me into the Master s good graces 
for a Fellowship, to say nothing of ^"15 worth of books, which 
thing is not to be despised. 

Now to turn to your letter, I don t know whether to feel 
comfort or pain at your difficulty of speaking to the poor as 
you ought to speak, I mean, as regards myself. I always 
fancy, whenever I think about the matter, that I shall never be 
able to get out anything but commonplaces. And, tho it 
is something of a melancholy satisfaction to find that I am not 
alone in this respect, it is not very favorable to the hope I 
have felt that, when the time actually came, the difficulty would 
vanish. But of one thing I am sure, that the more we seek 
to be but God s spokesmen, and not to dwell on our own 
thoughts, the more will our lips be opened. You will remem- 

1 Moral Sciences Tripos, 1851. First class. Ds. Mackenzie, Trin. ; 
* Wilson, A., Trin. ; Bruce, Hon. T. C., Jesus; *Hort, Trin. (* Moral 
Philosophy prizemen.) 


ber how Maurice dwells on the four Gospels as pre-eminently 
setting forth the ministerial office even more than the Chris 
tian life ; and there is no more perplexing or more valuable 
precept than that to the Apostles to take no thought what they 
should speak, for the Holy Ghost should teach them what they 
should speak. Maintain a firm, live conviction that we have 
the Word dwelling in us, the Word who Himself took flesh 
and partook of every form of sorrow, known or unknown to 
us, and His sympathy will become ours, and we shall be able 
to use the strength which He won in subduing all His enemies 
by the word of our mouths. 

Thank you much for your note received this day, Feb 
ruary 1 3th. I may as well mention that I got 96 out of 100 
marks for the Master s paper. Holden and Gibbes wanted to 
place me second, but the Master (very justly) contended that 
the order must be not by merit but by marks. They are all 
enthusiastic in our praise ; say we should be thoroughly First 
Class in any such examinations, most agreeably surprized 
them, etc. 

I have just struck up a most delightful acquaintance with 
Lees of Christ s, who has been Kingsley s pupil for some 
months. But this and heaps more that I want to say I really 
must defer. 


CAMBRIDGE, February itfh, 1851. 

. . . Thank you all for your congratulations. There is no 
limitation about the prize. Whewell sent for me on Monday 
and paid me the money ; he was remarkably gracious (I should 
mention that this is the first time I have come personally in 
contact with him), and asked after a Mr. Fenton Hort whom 
he remembered very well ; he hoped that, if ever he were in 
Cambridge again, he would call at the Lodge, as he should 
be very glad to renew his acquaintance ; he also asked after 
my uncle. 1 I mean to get five or six volumes to bear on 
their backs the University Arms, but I shall find the rest of 
the money very serviceable, as I have a very large book bill, 

1 Sir William Hort, Mr. Fenton Hort s elder brother. 


caused partly by these very Triposes ; that is to say, reading 
for them has been the occasion of my getting permanently 
good and important books rather more than usual. The 
same may be said of the examination itself ; independently of 
the prize and honour, and still more valuable objects of 
various kinds consequent thereupon, I have read and learned 
much valuable matter, that would otherwise have been lost or 
acquired more loosely. I only regret that I did not pursue 
this advantage to anything like the same extent that I might 
have done. Since I wrote, I have seen the marks given, and 
heard various particulars, chiefly from Holden himself, the 
additional examiner. They have all taken every oppor 
tunity of praising us all, as having been fully up to the First 
Class mark, so that we should have been no lower had there 
been a hundred competitors . . . they have dwelt especially 
on the good style, particularly of Mackenzie and myself 
(style, not so much of composition as of treatment). . . . 
Holden says he does not at all understand why I was not 
published as first Whewell s prizeman. All this sounds pain 
fully egotistic, but I know you will be glad to hear it, and I 
do not see how otherwise you can know of it. I will send 
to-morrow a Cambridge Chronicle, if they print the papers in it. 
I am now at work for the Natural Sciences Tripos, the 
examination for which begins on Monday fortnight. I am at 
present at Structural and Physiological Botany, which (reading 
as I do in the highest books) is anything but child s play, and 
is a region nearly new to me. 

Many thanks to Kate for her letter, which I hope to answer 
in two or three days. Perhaps she will be good enough to 
dry a snowdrop for me, bulb and all, if possible ; it will soon 
flatten down. Do they grow generally, or only near the 
gardens and houses ? I do not see why they should not be 
really wild in that part of England. Babington has no doubt 
they are sometimes really indigenous. I wish I could see 
them. Well, I must close ; love without end to you all. Ever 
your affectionate son, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

The occasion of the following letter was the publica 
tion by Kingsley of some remarks on the state of the 


universities, the nature of which will be apparent from 
Hort s criticisms thereon. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 2$th, 1851. 

My dear Mr. Kingsley I have been so much delighted 
this afternoon by the receipt of your most generous letter, that 
I cannot rest till I have thanked you very heartily for it. ... 
Of the state of London I can know nothing. Of that of 
Oxford I thought some little while ago much as you do now, 
except that I was more hopeful of future well-being by the 
possibility of a sound direction being given to activities and 
energies which I supposed to be really working, though in a 
wild and confused way. But my somewhat vague impressions 
were changed by a very interesting conversation in (I think) 
October last (but possibly it was May) with Mr. Maurice (to 
whom we both, I believe, owe under God nearly all the 
better part of our being, and not least the desire, and in part 
the power, of calling no man our master, but learning the 
truth from the strangest and most dissimilar quarters). He 
had been staying with Arthur Stanley at Oxford, and seemed 
very desponding about the state of matters there ; all, he said, 
was stagnant, and lifeless, and hopeless ; the only apparent 
feeling was a vague but bitter one of distrust and dislike of 
the authorities as idle pedants on the part of the younger 
men. I asked if there were no outwardly infidel movement, 
which gave promise of ending in a real and active faith, and 
mentioned in illustration Mr. Clough s poems. No, he 
thought not ; there might perhaps be some infidelity, but if 
there were, it was quite stagnant (that word, or one like it, was 
what he dwelt mostly on) and hopeless. He then asked me 
about Cambridge. I could not give a more lively account, 
but observed that at least we had one great blessing, in being 
free from party spirit (a blessing which I had good reason to 
appreciate, having been maddened by a residence of some 
years in the midst of Cheltenham) ; he much doubted this 
being a healthy sign among young men. I spoke of the 


kindred mischief of via-mediaism and a cowardly shrinking 
from extremes merely because they are extremes; he 
assented, and lamented that this Eclecticism was equally 
prevalent at Oxford. I mention this conversation in order to 
show you how I came to regard stagnation as the leading 
characteristic of both Universities ; only I have seldom been 
able to trace discontent against superiors at Cambridge. Now 
certainly I can find in your letters statements agreeable to 

most of those contained in my letter to ; but I still 

think that the total impression conveyed by your words is that 
our curse is misdirected activity. In your last letter to the 
Spectator I think you partly meet my statement by attributing 
the deadness to the mass of the University, and the activity 
to its leading intellects, at least so I understand you ; but it 
appears to me that all alike suffer from the general apathy, 
though it shows itself in very different forms. I cannot easily 

guess what description has given you of the better men 

among us. That there is a vast deal of good, I thankfully 
acknowledge ; it is perpetually springing up where I have 
least expected it, and putting to rebuke my uncharitable 
thoughts ; yet since last May I have not had one friend in 
residence to whom I could open myself freely and unreservedly 
without feeling that there was something cold and dark 
between us, which kept us up to a certain point apart ; and 

yet I know that I am not suspicious. , I think, might 

become an exception, but I have not known him at all till a 
few days ago. Of course it would be absurd in the extreme 
for me to assume that there are no noble minds of the highest 
class noble especially as having struggled and now become 
victorious with which I am unacquainted ; still I think I can 
say that from various concurrent causes I have at least as 
good means of discovering such minds, in Trinity at least, 
as any one here. There is one circumstance in the present 
state of Trinity, and probably in a less degree of the whole 
University, which not only makes such discovery very difficult, 
but actually checks and confines the growth of the very highest 
minds ; I mean the amount of respectable cultivation existing 
in probably nearly half our number ; and yet this is so valuable 
an advance upon previous inanity and brutality, that no one can 


wish for its removal. Modern literature is extensively read in 
a way that, though neither earnest nor profound, is still rather 
humanizing and genial than otherwise. A reading man is 
distinguished not from one who does not read, but from one 
who does not read University subjects enough to obtain 
moderately high honours; and the two kinds of reading 
usually progress together ; so that, though there may be a few 
really well-read men who do not pursue the studies of the 
place, still on the whole the best scholars and mathematicians 
in Trinity (in any year) are, with very few exceptions, the best 
acquainted with modern literature. And theology is usually 
by no means excluded from their attention, and that not in a 
merely sectarian way ; so that stolid, pharisaical orthodoxy 
is all but unknown among undergraduates, bachelors, and 
younger masters, except in a small and inferior class. This is 
of course a partial good, but it is accompanied by a fatal evil 
of a peculiar kind. Enough easy and comfortable exercise is 
given to men s conscience and faculties to remove the restless 
ennui of perfect idleness, and still more the impatience and 
rebelliousness which mere restraint and obscurantism 
would produce. Religious difficulties are not often, I think, 
stifled, but rather met with half lazy solutions, not absolutely 
untrue, but weak and imperfect. Then comes the friendly 
intercourse which prevails between men of all opinions, 
rubbing off many asperities, but rubbing off also, alas ! much 
vigour and distinctness ; truth is seen not to be the exclusive 
possession of any one party, and every question is found to 
have two sides. The total result is not ignorance of the 
questions which are being asked all around, but universal 
trimming; the doubts, which, if treated roughly, must before 
long have imperiously claimed to be heard, and ultimately 
have led their victims into utter scepticism or Romanism, or 
else to perfect faith, because nothing less would have satisfied 
them, are judiciously humoured and coaxed away. I do not 
want to deny the good that must be mixed up with all this 
specious evil ; I am sure that God is daily leading many into 
His truth by ways of His own that I know not ; and it cannot 
be but that much is really learnt from the books which are 
the main instruments of the mischief. Maurice s more popular 


writings are among the most common, though I seldom see or 
hear of his more profound ones, and none are really studied. 
But the disheartening thing is to see so few symptoms of any 
one knowing what it is to be ever craving and unsatisfied till 
one has reached the very ground and bottom of a question, 
and to care little for consequences in the pursuit. What is to 
be the end of these things, it is not easy to predict ; you 
think it will be a violent revulsion " in the direction of 
Strauss, Emerson, and [Francis] Newman." It may be so, 
especially in the direction of Newman ; for the degree of 
intelligence and cultivation which pervades our orthodox (if 
so it can be called !) Epicurism is likely, I think, to make 
our infidelity also Epicurean ; and more luxurious, complacent 
hands-in-the-breeches-pocket infidelity than prevails in the 
little of Newman s writings that I have read, I cannot imagine. 
I could greedily devour The Nemesis of Faith every week, 
but it is an irksome labour to me to get through one chapter 
of The Soul. But surely the evil seed is sown in many 
more effective ways than by these books, especially such a 
cold laborious criticism as I take the Leben Jesu to be. If the 
root of all unbelief be, as the Bible teaches us, in our selfish 
and cowardly hearts, the devil will never want innumerable 
direct means to plant it where it may grow most rank. I can 
hardly think that the infidelity of even educated Englishmen 
will be often German in its character ; nay, there seem to 
be signs that not theology, but questions concerning social 
relations, and, above all, that which daily more strongly 
appears to me to lie at the root of all social problems, the 
relation of the sexes, will be the prominent subjects of 
unbelief. But indeed, if I seemed to you to doubt your 
gloomy prophecies of a coming time of shattered faith, 
it was merely from my bitter sense of our present awful 
quiescence, of those "evils that," as Ruskin says, "vex less 
and mortify more, that suck the blood though they do not 
shed it, and ossify the heart though they do not torture 
it." But when one thinks what tremendous responsibilities 
rest on those whose feet God has in any wise set upon 
the living Rock, it is yet more horrible to feel by daily 
experience how every vain or unkind word and every un- 


clean thought brings back doubts which seemed vanquished 
for ever. 

I must say a word or two on other points of your letters. 
It is with pain I allude to our chapel-keeping, knowing 
how constantly I am thinking, speaking, and acting as if 
it were the merest disciplinary form. But if you were to 
attend our service a few times, especially in the morning and 
at the more orderly end of the chapel, I think you would find 
it far less soul-less than you suppose ; certainly in no other 
congregation have I had at all an equal sense of united wor 
ship. And I am sure that, far as the College system is from 
what it ought to be, its effects are still up to a certain point 
truly healthy and beneficial; and that Mr. Sewell s plan of 
professors in provincial towns, however useful for disseminating 
information, would be totally wanting in that which makes 
Oxford and Cambridge to be even now, with all their short 
comings, almost the only places of education in England; 
and surely the professor s office is rather to guide students in 
their studies than to teach. You allow that meddling with 
machinery is ineffectual to infuse life ; but still you look to 
the Commission to effect that object by compelling the Uni 
versities to reform themselves. But how ? Reforming 
themselves in ordinary parlance means a change of machinery 
ab intra instead of ab extra. But you can hardly mean this 
only. You must be thinking of vital spiritual reform, yet that 
is not definite enough to be a subject of outward compulsion ; 
and as for the moral compulsion of the public, made wise by 
the blue-books, will the public really understand the evils and 
their remedies ? Do you think that the state of feeling in 
any class is so much higher than it is here that our fathers 
generally will scent out the true poison ? Are they not yet more 
infected by it ? Will they not rather rejoice to find that their 
sons are studiously reading their Latin and Greek and Mathe 
matics, with literature and the newspapers and the sciences of 
the new Triposes superadded, and just minding their own 
bread and butter like practical, common -sense Englishmen, 
and pleasing their tutors, without troubling their heads about 
wild, dangerous notions in morals, theology, or politics? I 
am not speaking from personal experience, or at least very 

AGE 22 


slightly; but I think the state of society generally bears out 
my statement. And again, supposing the compulsion existing, 
if the University authorities have not life, how can they bring 
it into operation ? And yet how will the public be able to get 
living men to fill their places ? The best sign I have seen yet 
is a strong and rapidly increasing tendency among the younger 
masters to make Honours far less the object of the University 
System than at present ; such a spirit can hardly fail to produce 
other good fruits. There is reason to hope that much will be 
done in this direction by the Syndicate now employed to revise 
the University Statutes, which comprises most of the best and 
most thoughtful men in the University. And the new Regius 
Professor of Divinity announced yesterday approaching changes 
in the now troublesome yet almost useless Voluntary Theo 
logical Examination. Without such divisions as would intro 
duce rivalry, we are to be distinguished (I suppose by two 
alphabetical classes) into those who have really prepared them 
selves for Holy Orders, and those who go in as a matter of 

I must hasten to conclude this long letter. I am sure you 
hate receiving compliments as much as I hate paying them. 
But you must allow me for this once the pleasure of telling you 
how much love even more than admiration I owe you. I 
cannot adequately thank you for all I have learnt from many 
of your writings, especially from Yeast. But I think of you 
rather as one that had felt and was feeling what it contains, 
as a flesh-and-blood man than as an author. And so, without 
seeing you, I have come to love you as a very dear friend, 
even when you sometimes made me angry with you. I know 
you will excuse the freedom with which I write. And now I 
have to thank you for the offer of your friendship made on 
the strength of a letter in which I misrepresent and abuse you. 
You may well believe how thankfully I accept it. But I give 
you warning you will find me a troublesome friend. I have 
read your writings too carefully not to know how completely 
we differ on some important points. In various ways I shall 
be perpetually exasperating you. I am hampered and logged 
every way with vanity and selfishness, and very impatient of 


corrective measures; but if you have any regard for me, 
you will knock them out of me any way you think best, with 
out mercy ; and if I wince and turn fractious, you must not 
mind. Only do not despair of me, or cast me off. Yours 
most truly, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE, March 2nd, 1851. 

. . . Poor old Duke ! he has enough on his hands just 
now, as bona fide the Queen s Privy Councillor. It is some 
thing to feel, even for a week, that we are a kingdom again, 
and not a cabinet-dom ! The Queen seems to have been 
acting capitally. 

I do not, from your description, at all doubt the wildness 
of the snowdrops ; still less of the daffodils, which occur, I 
believe, in many of the really native woods of the west of 
England. As I have a conscience, I won t ask Kate to dry 
one. They grow in a wood at Whit well, three miles from 
Cambridge, but there escaped a century ago from a garden. 
Nothing is out with us yet but a few daisies and a bilious, 
disgruntled - looking dandelion or two. If it will be any 
pleasure to you to collect the mosses, pray do ; you need not 
be afraid of my despising them. Perhaps I have seemed not 
to pursue them very warmly. This is chiefly because I do 
not want to get any book (no thoroughly good one exists) 
which will be superseded as soon as Mr. Wilson s appears; 
but, if you like, we will try what we can do with Hooker s old 
descriptions, which are respectable, but have no plates. 


Saturday Night [March Wi\> 1851. 

My dearest Mother I have not much to add to the 
above. 1 In Physiology I was very high far the first. In 

1 Viz. the class list of the Natural Sciences Tripos, in which Hort was 
placed second in the first class (Liveing being first), with the note, Dis 
tinguished in Physiology and Botany. 


Botany I did also very well, and was quite first. In Chemistry 
and Mineralogy of course I got very little. Geology seems 
to have been tolerably done by all, brilliantly by none. If 
the paper had been a quarter of the length, it would have been 
more satisfactory to all parties. Fuller says Sedgwick boasted 
of having made it a * very complete paper, and got all 
geology into it, to be written out in four hours ! We all (i.e. 
all the ist class) did very well in the general paper. I was 
glad to find that Fuller thinks two subjects as much as any 
one can manage. 

I have had a talk with Babington. He recommends what 
I thought of, viz. Lindley s Ladies Botany, Bonn s edition in 
1 2 mo (mind this). He knows of no book short of a full 
systematic one which would be of use to find out plants 
names by, but this seems easy and nicely done ; and Lindley s 
name is enough for its scientific excellence. It takes a hedge 
or common garden flower (such as a Buttercup, Poppy, or 
Strawberry) in each of the principal Natural Orders by their 
English as well as their Latin names, and, as it were, pulls it 
to pieces before you, explaining the parts in a familiar way, 
not by getting rid of the science, but by putting it in an easy 
and English form ; not telling you how to put plants in the 
shelves and compartments of any system invented by learned 
men, but helping you to see for yourself how they are actually 
related to each other in the unchangeable order of nature. 
Now this, it seems to me, is of all things the most delightful 
to a child. It will soon tire of the mechanical process of 
counting stamens, but will always feel a burst of pleasure at 
catching a glimpse of a fresh family likeness even among 
plants. Some sage people will tell you that this is putting 
mysterious fancies into a child s head, and mischievously keep 
ing it from the influence of plain common-sense. But I 
have yet to learn that it is a good thing for any one, whether 
child or grown-up, to despise and cast off mysteries. . . . 
I can assure you I do not forget how very much I owe both 
to you and to grandmamma, whether in leading me to love 
plants or in anything else. I do not grudge you any amount 
of the credit. If I have ever seemed to do anything of the 
kind, you must not judge it too harshly. Doubtless I have 


sometimes done so, for what thoughts will not a hard pride 
suggest? but not habitually, nor deliberately, nor, I would 
hope, in my truer self. You must not measure me by what I 
say, or do not say ; but I know you do not. 


CAMBRIDGE, March 8/7?, 1851. 

I am afraid you and I should not agree about the Papal 
affair, unless the crisis, as they call it, in which our precious 
Ministers got themselves a few days ago have changed your 
views, as it seems to be doing those of some people. I 
cannot see what right we have to molest the Romanist 
bishops for taking what titles they please. Of course it is 
a bore, but so are many other things. There are no new 
pretensions made ; the Romanists have always claimed, as 
we do, the allegiance of the whole nation, and not their own 
adherents only. They would have been monstrously incon 
sistent if they had not, while they claimed to be a Church and 
not a sect. The real insult and grievance, if insult and 
grievance there be, is the existence of such a body as the 
Romish Communion in England ; but the only way I see of 
redressing it is to fry every Jack man of them at Smithfield, or 
let them alone. However, the Provisional Government 
cannot last, and I suspect that Anti-Aggression Bills will fall 
when falls the Complete Letter-writer. 


CAMBRIDGE, March i^th, 1851. 

. . . The glass house l is certainly a wonderful affair, 
though, from its extreme lowness, you do not take in its size, 
except by running your eye along the infinity of compartments. 
One wonders where all the glass could come from. I felt a 
sort of impulsive wish to put on a good strong glove and 
scrunch the whole affair with a single elephantine pat. It 

1 The Exhibition building. 


looks so unsubstantial, and so like an edifice of spun sugar, 
that it seems only made to be scrunched. . . . 

If you can find the true Dog Violet, which has a bluer flower 
with a bright yellow spur, I shall be pleased, but it is not 
worth much search. It is most likely to grow at the edges of 
the meadows by the banks of the Wye, between Redbrook and 
Monmouth. There will probably soon be a blaze of Marsh 
Marygolds all along the river. One other beautiful violet you 
are pretty sure to see wherever there is limestone, that is on 
most of the higher ground, including that part of the tramway, 
but not in the sandy hollows. Like the sweet violet, it has 
flowers springing directly from the root without any apparent 
stem, but they are bluer and scentless. Their spurs are slightly 
hooked instead of straight, and the hairs on the leafstalks are 
spreading instead of curving downwards ; it is the Hairy 
Violet. I have seen it in magnificent masses of blue on 
railway embankments near Cheltenham. 


CAMBRIDGE, March igth, 1851. 
... I am just now doing that same (revelling in enjoy 
ment) over Hartley Coleridge. Derwent has done him 
honestly and lovingly, but too clerically, and given too few of 
his letters, about the most thoroughly delightful I ever read. 
. . . Two volumes of Essays and Marginalia are to follow, and a 
reprint of the Northern Worthies. The memoirs and letters 
show indirectly how cruelly S. T. C. has been called an un 
natural father. 


NEWLAND, Good Friday [April i8t/i], 1851. 

I called on Furnival (in town) and had a long and inter 
esting chat ; he told me that Lloyd Jones was going to lecture 
at 8 at Charlotte Street, where many Promoters and possibly 
Maurice might be. I went and saw all, Maurice included 
(who looked very ill), but of course could get no conversation, 



and had to leave almost immediately ; Kingsley unluckily was 
not there. I am writing to Blunt to Jerusalem, as the Syrian 
Mail is closed on the 2oth. 

Westcott s excellent, though not faultless, book on the 
Gospels is out (and with me). I have written a Review of it, 
which Macmillan is going to get into the Guardian. Hardwick 
has just published what seems a good History of the Articles ; 
Westcott likes it much, and says he brings out well their 
Lutheran and plusquam Lutheran character against the 
Calvinistic bodies, especially on Justification. At his advice I 
have been getting a whole heap of the Symbolical books of 
all the Churches, real and so called, and am going to read 
Moehler s Symbolik and Guericke s (Lutheran and anti-Prussian) 
Allgemeine Symbolik, both of which he likes exceedingly. 

I am sadly afraid poor Manning is gone l at last, and of 
course numbers will follow. 


CAMBRIDGE, May i$tk, 1851. 

. . . Vol. i. of Sir F. Palgrave s History of Normandy and 
England is out, and seems very delightful, and a noble defence 
of the Middle Ages. 

says he is so bewildered about Socialism he scarcely 

dares think of it, and is proportionately truculent and dogmatic 
if I hint disparagement. He says the Guardian is thoroughly 
Romish (which is almost entirely false), yet the other day, 
talking of Newman, Manning, etc., he said they evidently 
saw that the great movement of the day is the ( Neo-catholic 
(i.e. chiefly Oratorian) movement, and that more good could 
be done by working in it than <( in any other, and that he was 
by no means sure they were not right. I exclaimed indignantly 
against joining oneself to a Lie, merely because it promised to 
do most good ; but he only jeered at me, and asked how we 
were to know what is true except by its consequence of doing 
good. Truly a curious symptom of the approaching union of 
Romanism and Communism, which I have been some time 

1 Viz. over to Rome. 



June 2.Qth, 1851. 

I am anxious to see the Pre-Raphaelites, but expect 
to be much annoyed. Ruskin s second letter was a remark 
able one ; but the point for which he praises them, and which 
is the most characteristic thing in Modern Painter -s, is just 
what has been the burden of my song for six or seven years, 
viz. that truth and not falsehood is the subject of art, I 
suppose he means only to consider them as clumsy but 
promising infants. I have just finisht all that is out of the 
Stones of Venice. It is, all but the first and last chapters, a 
technical account of the necessary elements, constructive and 
decorative, of all possible architecture. Venice is to come in 
vol. ii. Vol. i. is full of most valuable, but what many would 
call dry matter ; it is not often eloquent, and frequently very 
perverse, but on the whole I read it with great delight. The 
fag end of a note on the Crystal Palace is excellent ; he calls 
it good as a piece of human work and industry, worthless as 
architecture, as being cast, and therefore bearing no impress 
of human hearts and heart-directed hands. What a marvellous 
tearful power Maurice s tales have ! T. Bradfoot l moves me 
almost fearfully ; every line is rich too in practical wisdom. 

Do have some patience with , in spite of all his 

absurdities ; an Oxford Protestant and clever man, who 
has just found his way into something like Catholic views, is 
likely to caper away with some strange antics. 

Not very long after my last letter I wrote to Maurice, 
giving him my crude] impressions of the Education question, 
and asking his advice, being much puzzled by his recent 
effusions in the Christian Socialist. He wrote me a strange 
passionate reply, which I took for a rebuke ; you shall see it 
some time. . . . 

I wrote a long and rather warm reply, which he answered 
like himself, disclaiming any wish to censure what I had said, 

1 The Experiences of Thomas Bradfoot, Schoolmaster, in the Christian 
Socialist, 1851, beginning 26th April. 


but saying that he was merely vindicating his conduct in now 
deserting the unsatisfactory go-between which he had 
formerly (not very warmly) supported. He also says a little 
about Socialism, but not to the point ; and recommends to 
me Kingsley s lecture on agriculture, which (with one or two 
exceptions) I liked thoroughly. Meanwhile I had (don t open 
your eyes too wide !) been asked to join the Apostles ; I 
declined, but after hearing a good deal which shook me, 
begged time to consider. Meanwhile I wrote to Maurice for 
impartial counsel, telling my objection, and his second letter 
contained a P.S. which left me no alternative. He said he 
could not advise me impartially. His connection with 
them had moulded his character and determined the whole 
course of his life ; he owed them more than he could 
express in any words ; was aware of the tendency to self- 
conceit and trifling which I spoke of; could not but desire 
fervently that it should be counteracted by the influence and 
co-operation of earnest men ; twas not possible therefore for 
him to advise me to stand aloof from them ; believed there 
must be evil attaching to every exclusive society ; the counter 
acting good in this he had found very great. Could there 
be a more beautiful or delicate recommendation ? So I 
joined, and attended one semi-meeting, but must tell you 
more when I know more. I had written to Kingsley a few 
days before, but, without acknowledging it, he wrote me a 
very kind note to ask me to read Maurice s letter in the 
Christian Socialist on his most painful fight with the Guardian, 
and to offer to dry plants for me in Germany, whither he is 
going with his father and mother. On Wednesday afternoon 
I left Cambridge and then went down to Blackwall, and there 
had a most pleasant (annual) dinner with the Apostles old 
and new. Doune of Bury was President, and I, as junior 
member, Vice - President. Maurice, Alford, Thompson, F. 
Lushington, T. Taylor, James Spedding, Blakesley, Venables, 
etc. etc., were there; Monckton Milnes and Trench were 
unable to come. Maurice made a beautiful speech. We 
drove back to Farringdon Street together on the box of the 
Bus, and thence walked together as far as Holborn. In the 
morning I got (late) to Lincoln s Inn Chapel, and walked up 

AGE 23 



with him to Queen Square, but he was engaged out to 
breakfast. We talked partly of Scotch Church matters, but 
chiefly about F. Robertson of Brighton, who has happily got 
acquainted with him. He was as kind as possible. At noon 
I started for Bath, and here I am till Wednesday or Thursday, 
when we all move to town for a week to see the Exhibition, etc. 



of God. Fear generally, we were told, was the cause of most 
good things, of prudence in marriage, for instance, etc. etc. 
One main instance was fear when we hear a great noise in 
the night, from which we might understand what is meant by 
the fear of God. This morning I saw the Water-Colours, which 
have some noble Copley Fieldings, and the Royal Academy, 
which is very poor, one or two passable Stanfields, a capital 
Titania and Bottom of Landseer s, and the usual Danbys, 
Lees, and Creswicks. I can t make up my mind about the 
Pre-Raphaelites ; they are very gaudy and precious ugly, but 
the faces are more like living human faces than any I have 
seen in modern pictures. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, July lot/i, 1851. 

... I think I am as anxious as you are for real synodical 
church government, but do not think that God has yet shown 
us the right way. The other day we had a tolerable debate 
on the subject at the Union, when I spoke long and strongly 
in its favor, and I hope did some good; we were very 
amicable, except an absurd man who got up, when Temple 
spoke of scientific theology, to protest solemnly against the 
profanity of placing science on a level with theology. 

I fear you scarcely tolerate my having joined the 
Apostles/ but you must not judge too much by vague 
impressions. The record book of proceedings is very 
amusing; think of Maurice voting that virtue in women 
proceeds more from fear than modesty ! It is a good sign 
that there is always a large number of neutral votes. Some 

of s are ludicrous enough; e.g. on the question 

whether we ought to follow the text of Scripture or the 
discoveries of science as to the formation of the earth, etc. 
He votes the latter, adding a note that he considers the 
question of very little consequence, as he does not believe 
in matter ! 

I am very glad that Browne is so fond of the young 
Lutherans Guericke is a brave, genial, uncompromising 


fellow; if I have time and space, I will copy an amazing note 
from his Allgemeine Symbolik. Of Stier I know very little. 
Dorner s name always fills me with shame to think that 
Germans should now occupy the chosen English ground of 
solid dogmatic theology, and that he is the real representative 
of Pearson, Bull, and Waterland. His great historical treatise 
on the Person of Christ is, I believe, above praise ; Wilber- 
force is honest enough to acknowledge his great obligations 
to it in his book on the Incarnation. I should much like to 
know Morrison of Truro (who translated Kant and has lately 
done Guericke s Antiquities) ; he is an Apostle and a 
great friend of Thompson s. He has revised for Bohn the 
American translation of Neander, and the half-dozen words 
which he lets fall in propria persona here and there give me 
a very high idea of him. I think I should admire the 
Elijah more, were I familiar with it, but that is all ; it is 
admirable and very grand, but not deep or spiritual. It 
exactly answers to Mendelssohn s own face, noble enough in 
its way, but with none of the strange mysterious depth of poor 
Beethoven s face and eyes ; and he, you know, tho anything 
but fond of yielding place to others, was never tired of setting 
up Handel as unsurpassable, and chose to die with his works 
piled on his bed. It seems to me that Mendelssohn is 
genial and moving only in petty things, such as some of the 
exquisite Lieder ohne Worte. 

The authoress of Mary Barton (I forget her name) is now, 
I know, on intimate terms with the Maurices, but she has 
certainly been long married, and is, I think, nearer fifty than 

I must say a word or two of my breakfast with Maurice on 
Tuesday week. I had some pleasant talk with him, first on 
various things, and learnt that Kingsley was to come if 
possible. He did come before long, and I cannot say how 
charmed I was with him. The moment he came in, Maurice 
tossed him a letter for him (evidently on his late sermon) ; he 
read it with a curling lip, and then protested the world was 
like a cur dog, which first barks and snarls at you, but, when 
it finds that others do not repudiate you, comes up to you in 
a patronising way and smells (here he suited the action to the 


word) at you ; at which Maurice laught more than I should 
have thought possible. In the middle of breakfast the Arch 
deacon l and his wife came down, and very delightful was our 
talk. But think of the luxury after breakfast ; thundery rain 
was falling, so we four men lounged and sat round the window 
talking for more than an hour. They were all very unjust to 
Ruskin, of whose writings none were really au fait, and I was 
unexpectedly obliged to parry some of their charges. . . . One 
circumstance I shall not easily forget. All were attacking 
Ruskin for not doing justice to Raffaelle s later pictures; I 
suggested that this judgement was distorted by his strong disgust 
for Raffaelle s later immoral life. Maurice said that he had 
lately been greatly cleared, and urged that he was at all events 
purer than any one round him, and dwelt on his strange posi 
tion in that horrible city with his infinite capacities for enjoying 
beauty ; and finally Kingsley said slowly and solemnly, "They 
jest at scars who never felt a wound." 

On Thursday I saw the British Institute Exhibition. It 
had two or three wonderful Leonardo da Vincis (especially 
the Vierge aux Rochers ), some capital Rembrandt and 
Vandyke portraits, one or two sweet Murillos, etc. Kingsley 
had urged me by all means to see the Dudley Gallery at the 
Egyptian Hall, mentioning particularly the duplicate original 
of Correggio s well-known Dresden * Magdalen. So we all 
went on Friday, and I never enjoyed such a feast of art ; it is 
chiefly a collection by some cardinal of the early religious 
Italian schools, whom, in spite of Ruskin, I was not prepared 
to like. The forms were often stiff and flat, but the beauty 
was inconceivably divine (I can use no other word) ; the 
monkery lay very lightly upon them. I scarcely know what I 
liked best. Giotto, Francia, Fra Bartolomeo, and Fra Angelico 
were all wonderful. One picture by Garofalo (I don t know 
his name) contained, I think, the most glorious woman s head 
I ever saw ; Raffaelle could not surpass it. Then there were 
some inexpressibly delightful Leonardos and J. Bellinis, a 
good Titian or two, and a large very early Raffaelle. I was 
just going to propose departure when I met Brimley, who 
told me Kingsley and his wife would soon be there; so I 

1 Hare. 


began examining anew with Brimley, to whom the class of 
pictures was almost as new as to me, and who was almost 
equally pleased ; by and bye Kingsley came and introduced 
me to his wife. It was delicious to look at such pictures with 
Kingsley, and I was delighted to find that he chiefly enjoyed 
the same things that I had done, as well as pointed out 
others ; I had no idea how catholic he was. He showed me 
in poor Fra Angelico s Last Judgement the meeting in 
heaven of him and his love, who died young, and on whose 
death he became through grief a monk. 

On Sunday afternoon I took my father and Kate to 
Lincoln s Inn, where we had from Maurice the most mag 
nificent (I do not say most valuable) sermon I ever heard or 
read, being the last of his series on the early books of the 
O. T. It was on Samuel iii. 14, the character of Eli, and 
atheistical priests, and prophets raised up to testify against 
the priests (with a long digression on Savonarola), and the 
speaking by the mouth of a child. You can conceive his 
applications to our own times ; the eloquence was marvellous, 
especially when he summed up the number of ways in which 
" we, the priests of the English Church, cause the offering of 
the Lord to be abhorred," and prayed solemnly for the 
prophets, Carlyle being evidently in his mind ; yet now I feel 
it was a one-sided sermon. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, September ist, 1851. 

. . . The day after I left Cambridge I went down to Bath, 
and was there nearly a week, and was then about a fortnight in 
London, seeing the big glass toyshop and other London sights. 
Unluckily I am singular in being rather disappointed with the 
individual toys, grand as is the general effect. The designs 
seemed to me for the most part either tame or rabid. ... At 
last we came down to this house, which my father bought in the 
spring ; and having been living in hired abodes for fourteen 
years, in short, ever since we left Ireland for educational 
purposes, we are most glad to get truly settled again, especi- 


ally in such a beautiful neighbourhood, with all the Wye scenery 
easily approachable, and Tintern within five miles. Here I 
have been reading rather better than usual, but have not 
done much beyond some Plato, and the Master s Philosophy of 
the Inductive Sciences^ and a little Theology. However, the 
Master s book is good in itself, and indispensable for Fellow 
ship purposes. 

Thank you much for your account of yourself and your 
doings. Such things are never uninteresting to me, and, 
as for their being * selfish, that they cannot be except made 
so by a selfish spirit ; personal they may be, but that is quite 
another matter. I am glad you have found such pleasant 
and congenial quarters. If your pupil seems disposed to go 
out in the Natural Tripos, by all means encourage him, 
so far as you can do so without relaxing his Mathematics. 
He certainly should learn Botany on the Natural System. 

. . . With regard to Moral Philosophy, I asked Maurice 
exactly the same question a year and a half ago. Unluckily his 
letter is at Cambridge, but I will try to recall its substance. 
He said he doubted whether on the whole he could improve 
the special subjects marked out by Whewell ; but that, at 
all events, he was convinced the right thing in all such cases 
was to follow the prescribed course, and obedience would 
bring its own blessing. He urged me to give the greatest 
attention to the Plato and Aristotle, and to make them the 
central points of my reading, and the other books subsidiary. 
I did not myself go through anything like the whole course, 
but read all the Plato. The Aristotle I would read, if I were 
you, if possible in Chase s translation if not in Greek ; and, 
next to that, Cousin and Sanderson. I need not tell you 
that Butler is always good, and the Master upon him. I 
would also briefly skim Macintosh s Dissertation on Ethical 
Philosophy, and perhaps Whewell s preface to it. In the quarto 
Encyc. Metrop. Maurice devotes 44 pages to an account of 
Modern Philosophy. It is of course valuable, but far too 
brief and sketchy ; in short, with the exception of the 
elaborate account and defence of the Schoolmen (evidently 
written against Hampden), and a clear indication of the 
progress from Locke to Kant, it is little more than a series of 


hints, and not a history at all. Blackstone of course is good, 
but I know next to nothing about Law. I must read Mill 
more before I can judge of him. It is very hard, but very 
necessary, to distinguish his own deductions and applications 
from the scientific principles which he lays down. I suspect 
the inconclusiveness lies in the former. Ever, my dear 
Gorham, very truly yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE, September 2<)th, 1851. 

You have been led by God in all your past thoughts 
and ways in a direction which involved most painful contra 
dictions. You will not forget that the same God has brought 
you in like manner out of those painful contradictions, and 
has cut a knot for you which you could not cut yourself. 
That the process brings bitter pain is certain, but pain is 
only a secondary evil, and well is it for us if we can recognize 
it as a token of our sonship. So at least am I beginning at 
length in some slight degree to feel, having a thousand times 
refused to listen. We can still pray with not the less energy, 
"Despise not then the work of thine own hands," though 
we may feel that we have misinterpreted the form for which 
the work was destined. God bless you, ever your affectionate 
friend, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE, October loth, 1851. 9.30 A.M. 
Trinity Fellowships 

Rowe . . -3rd year 

H. Tayler . .3rd year 

Westlake . . .2nd year 

Watson . . .2nd year 

I needed the humbling. 



CAMBRIDGE, October i8//, 1851. 

My dearest Mother It seems such a time since the 
Fellowship List came out that I can hardly believe I have not 
long ago told you all about it. During the vacation I rather 
on the whole expected to succeed, but on arriving here soon 
realized that Watson s place would make him tolerably safe. 
Still, though not expecting success, I should not have been 
surprized by it ; and so felt some little annoyance at first, but 
in an hour had forgotten all about the matter. This day 
week I called on Thompson, and had an hour and a half s 
talk with him, in which, of course, I learned much. He 
welcomed me very cordially, and said he was anxious to tell 
me what a very favourable impression I had made on the 
Examiners generally, himself included ; he said that I had been 
very near indeed being elected ; at one period I had actually 
a majority of votes. The Master expressed very superlative 
opinions about my Philosophy paper ; apparently I was most 
successful in that subject, both in the specially -appropriated 
paper and in the translation of Plato and Aristotle. I was 
fully ahead of every one in my year (not elected), Schreiber 
being second and Beamont third; and Thompson told me 
that, unless I fall off woefully in the course of the year, which 
he did not see the least reason to suppose, I shall be elected 
as a matter of course next year. Accordingly I have received 
divers anticipatory congratulations ; and I suppose, if I go in, 
I shall be safe enough. This week I have had enough to do 
with the (so-called) Voluntary Theological Examination, a 
troublesome but not particularly difficult one. I was not so 
well prepared as I could have wished, as it was no easy 
matter to work much last week after emerging from the 
Fellowship drudgery. However it mattered little, for the 
papers were badly set, and, if I had tried ever so much, I 
should have done very little more. I left very little undone, 
and probably beat nineteen-twentieths of those in, but cannot 
look upon it as anything more than a bothersome but neces 
sary job got done with, for it is impossible to give satisfactory 

AGE 23 



answers to unsatisfactory questions, at least in a long ex 
amination. I have had a great enjoyment this week in 
Blunt s company ; he came up on Saturday, and we have 
almost lived together ; he started this morning for Brighton. 
Well ! I think I have by this time said enough about my 
precious self! ... I have not given you at all an equiva 
lent for your delightful letter, but / have no garden to lay 
out, and you would hardly care to hear how my kettle sings, 
so I must say good-night. Ever, dearest mother, your affec 
tionate son, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE, October igth, 1851. 

Thompson expressed a wish (to me) that Mackenzie 
would publish his essay. I do not know whether it is 
absolutely necessary to correct and annotate it ; if not, I shall 
be only too happy to correct the proofs, and help in any way 
in getting it through the press. 

I have very little Cambridge news to tell. Westcott has 
been ordained, and [has been] doing duty in Birmingham, but 
is come up for the term. The usual crowd of what Thomp 
son calls the early Fathers has of course brought up the 
usual crowd of nice young men, and chapel swarmed 
to-night to overflowing with astonished surplices. 


CAMBRIDGE, October zist, 1851. 

. . . Carlyle s Sterling is very fine ; if you cannot get hold 
of it, I will send it as soon as Stephen returns my copy. It 
is, however, very perverse partly from its keen sight ; you 
cannot imagine his bitter hatred of Coleridge, to whom he 
(truly enough) ascribes the existence of Puseyism, etc. etc., 
and whose influence he considers to be the one thing which 
still keeps some intelligent men from abandoning the Church 
and her crucified Lord and Formulae, for the Destinies, 


Eternal Radiancies, etc. etc. The picture of Sterling is 
doubtless almost true, as far as it goes, and an exquisitely 
beautiful one it is ; but Hare s is no less true. Many inci 
dental portraitures are wonderfully done, Sterling s mother, for 
instance. Of Hare he always speaks with respect and regard, 
but never strongly " surely a man of much piety," etc. He 
bestows not a single epithet on Maurice ; but the tone and the 
silence is, and is meant to be, a deeper and more reverential 
compliment than words could convey. Altogether I cannot 
regret the publication of the book, for all the calumnies it may 
generate, and the unjust impression which dear Carlyle conveys 
of himself. Thank you much for Harold. I cannot express 
how much I like it; its strength is marvellous. Lees, who 
has been up here (as has also W. Howard, whom, alas ! I 
have scarcely seen, but hope to see again in a few days), says 
it was written ages ago, long before The Sainfs Tragedy. 
Kingsley is getting on with his new fourth century novel Hypatia. 
I doubt Kingsley s power to appreciate that age, but at all 
events he will throw great light on its strange events, having 
read most largely in almost unknown books. Perhaps you do 
not know Hypatia s story, as told by Socrates; how, being 
young, beautiful, noble, of spotless purity, and a teacher of 
the so-called Platonic philosophy, she somehow incurred the 
hatred of that bloody bigot Cyril of Alexandria, and how, with 
his connivance, a band of fanatics pursued her to the altar, 
and there tore the living flesh from her bones with oyster 
shells. Have you seen Croker s attack on Maurice and 
Kingsley in the new Quarterly ? Brimley wrote an excellent 
answer ten days ago in the Spectator. I wish he would com 
plete it with instances. I like Ruskin s pamphlet, but don t 
think it has much to do with the Pre-Raphaelites. Dyce s 
answer to the Sheepfolds is not bad. I have just got a nice 
volume of poems by one Meredith ; * they are not deep, but 
show a rare eye and ear. There is a Keatsian sensuousness 
about them ; but the activity and go prevent it from being 
enervating and immoral. . . . 

I am going to work at Hebrew, and have likewise Modern 
Painters, Bentley (the critic, not publisher), Bull, F. Newman, 
1 George Meredith. 


Comte s Politique Positive, and (/3os ITTI yA.aW# x ) an article 2 
on Christian Socialism on hand satis, puto. 


CAMBRIDGE, November yd, 1851. 

My dearest Mother I wonder whether you are hugging 
the fire as affectionately at this moment as I am doing. This 
is the first real frost we have had, and it has been bitterly cold 
to-day, though very fine and excellent for walking. 



But still I m all froz 
From the tip of my noz 
To the tips of my toz, 

least I was just now, coming in from chapel through the 
cold courts, till I got thawed. It is pleasant to realise that 
you are able to write about out-of-door things as being really 
familiar friends, after being used to eschew all acquaintance 
with them (pavements, door-steps, and brick walls excepted) 
in the intervals between summer and summer. To be sure it 
was in a great measure the same last winter at Newland ; but 
still we were too palpably there rather town mice come to visit 
country mice, than genuine country mice. . . . 

As you suppose, I have lost the company of many friends, 
and have not made many new ones ; but still I have plenty to 
walk with Westlake, Beamont, Brimley, E. Scott, Westcott, 
Babington, Mathews, etc. etc. ; and I hope to extend my 
acquaintance among the younger men, especially under 
graduate scholars of Trinity. My attendance at chapel varies 
mostly from six or seven to ten or twelve times a week, of 
which a respectable and increasing number are in the morning. 
I am not reading very hard, but am not idle, having various 
things on hand ; Classics, Theology, and Hebrew (which I am 
beginning to take up again) are the most staple subjects, and 
I have always plenty of miscellaneous reading Politics, and 
Biography, and Poetry, and all manner of things on hand to 

1 Anglice, Tell it not in Gath. 
2 This article was apparently not finished. 


a greater or less degree. Westcott and I have started a small 
chorus Gorham, Freshfield, Howard, and Bradshaw, besides 
ourselves to meet once a week, and get Amps, the organist 
of St. Andrews, and deputy organist of Trinity, an excellent 
musician and master, to teach us part singing. As yet we 
have only met once to try voices, and are pronounced to have 
two basses and four tenors, mine being of the former ; but on 
Thursday we begin regularly. Amps is to provide for the 
treble and alto parts one or two boys each. We anticipate 
much pleasure without much expense. They had on Saturday 
a great Football Match at Rugby old Rugbeians against 
present Rugbeians; where the former, though 35 against 400, 
kicked one goal and completely penned up the great host in 
one part of the Close all the afternoon. 


CAMBRIDGE, November 2%th> 1851. 

. . . Even when long looked for, it is some time before 
we realise the sharpness of a very severe blow. People may 
say that must arise from the first effect being to stun ; but the 
result is the same when there has been no stunning, but 
conscious and intelligent acquiescence. 

I can quite understand what you say about your genea 
logical researches, though I have very little taste that way 
myself; but I suppose it is rather undeveloped than non 
existent, for not very long ago, in reading a novel (Lady Alice), 
I took the trouble to make out the pedigrees and write them 
on paper (being very intricate) in order to understand the 
story better; and the Stemmata Ccesarum, Ptolemceorum, etc., 
in Smith s Dictionary smite me rather with respectful admira 
tion than with fear and disgust. 


HARDWICK, December 22nd, 1851. 

. . . There is great satisfaction in the assurance that 
nothing in which God has been a guide and a worker can 


truly come to an end and lack fulfilment. I cannot describe 
the rest I have sometimes found in those wondrous words of 
Tauler s which Trench quotes (Parables, p. 177), "Upon the 
way in which we may have restored to us the years which the 
cankerworm has eaten, " respecting " that Now of eternity, 
wherein God essentially dwells in a steadfast Now ; where is 
neither anything past, neither to come; where the beginning 
and the end of the whole sum of time stand present ; where, 
that is, in God, all things lost are found ; how, finally, all things 
that we have let go or lost we may find again, and gather up 
again even in that most precious storehouse of the Lord s 

Christmas Eve. I hoped to have gone on yesterday, but 
was prevented, and as I am anxious to wish you a happy and 
blessed Christmas I must be brief, for it is near virtual post 
hour. I must write again to tell you of Blunt s wedding, at 
which I was, as you suppose, present, to my great joy. I 
don t understand what the fancies and speculations are, on 
which you want sun and air to be let in, and am, indeed, 
apt to be far too deeply plunged in that cloudland myself to 
be very Phoebus or Boreas like for you to any practical 
purpose. Nevertheless sprout away. 

I send a scrap of Meredith, copied for you weeks and 
weeks ago ; is it not sweet and perfect in itself as a song ? 
Talk of Moore and Herrick ! It seems to me more like 
Shakespeare s songs. Well ! to-morrow brings glad tidings of 
great joy to us, as to all people ; may we rejoice in it ! God 
bless you. 


HARDWICK, December zgt/i and $Qth, 1851. 

. . . With regard to F. Newman, it may perhaps be well 
to read his Soul, on account of his curious dread of pantheism ; 
but I confess I would rather read some man of stronger mind 
from the same point of view doing the same thing, i.e. trying 
to construct a religion from within, i.e. from the pantheistic or 
anthropocentric principle. I have looked a little at his friend 
Mackay s Progress of the Intellect, an intelligent and very 



learned book, but horribly dull, lifeless, and dreadfully 
tolerant of us poor Christians, which is a thing I can t 
abide. (This reminds me of a story Stephen told me. 
Some Whig was remonstrating with some High Church clergy 
man for disliking Lord Lansdowne : " Why, surely, you 
can t deny Lord Lansdowne tolerates the Church." " Bah, 
that s the very reason we hate him," was the answer, " because 
he tolerates the Church.") I have read Maurice s new book l 
but once, but like it much better than his last. The first is 
surely a most beautiful application of the Kantian Noumena 
and Phenomena doctrine. The talk about the Fall is rather 
confusing to me. But I must read the whole again. It is, 
as you say, a great thing that he sticks so close to the letter. 
But I wish he knew Hebrew, and I also. I had not heard of 
the panic at King s College ; if you learn more, pray tell me. 
I think I must write to Maurice himself soon. 

. . . Certes we never wanted true Teutonic Protestantism 
as we do now ; it is the only thing that can keep true Catholicism 
from rotting into one of the legion forms of pseudo-catholicism 
which swarm around us. Have you heard of a new book, 
Wilson s Bampton Lectures, which are making a great stir at 
Oxford ? I have read part of them (he was one of the five 
tutors who protested against Tract 90), and they seem to 
me perfectly horrible ; people will quote them as instances of 
Germanising, but the Germanism lies only on the surface. 
Locke and Zwingle are the real originators of the book, which 
is dreadfully and calmly philosophically destructive. It is on 
the Communion of Saints, and the object is to show that there 
is no communion between the living and the dead, and that 
Communion of Saints can mean only good action in different 
Christians, assisted by separate rays from the same divine 
source ; incidentally he intimates his hatred of doctrines and 
contempt for historical Christianity. Truly it is the dreariest 
of all the Gospels (Bentham s not excluded) preached to our 
poor age. 

I am doing some little steady work. Every night after 
prayers I lug down a big pile of books, Bruder s Concordance, 
Olshausen, De Wette, Tischendorfs text, Bagster s Critical 
1 Probably Patriarchs and Lawgivers. 

AGE 23 



Greek Testament, and a German dictionary, and work at St. 
Paul chronologically. I have been two nights at 2 Thess. ii. 
and have at last got some light, which has much pleased me 
and encouraged me; I find it altogether a most interesting 
and all-ways profitable study. I had no idea till the last few 
weeks of the importance of texts, having read so little Greek 
Testament, and dragged on with the villainous Textus Receptus. 
Westcott recommended me to get Bagster s Critical, which 
has Scholz s text, and is most convenient in small quarto, with 
parallel Greek and English, and a wide margin on purpose for 
notes. This pleased me much ; so many little alterations on 
good MS. authority made things clear not in a vulgar, notional 
way, but by giving a deeper and fuller meaning. But after all 
Scholz is very capricious and sparing in introducing good 
readings; and Tischendorf I find a great acquisition, above 
all, because he gives the various readings at the bottom of his 
page, and his Prolegomena are invaluable. Think of that vile 
Textus Receptus leaning entirely on late MSS. ; it is a blessing 
there are such early ones. . . . 

Westcott, Gorham, C. B. Scott, Benson, Bradshaw, Luard, 
etc., and I have started a society for the investigation of ghosts 
and all supernatural appearances and effects, being all dis 
posed to believe that such things really exist, and ought to be 
discriminated from hoaxes and mere subjective delusions ; we 
shall be happy to obtain any good accounts well authenticated 
with names. Westcott is drawing up a schedule of questions. 
Cope calls us the Cock and Bull Club ; our own temporary 
name is the Ghostly Guild. Westcott himself is, I fear, about 
to leave us. ... His book has been wonderfully well received. 
He is preparing a companion volume for the epistles, Elements 
of the Apostolical Harmony, which will, I think, be rather odd. 
I am getting to know more younger live men, which is a 
great pleasure. E. A. Scott of Rugby I like exceedingly ; he 
is thick with the A. P. Stanley set. Benson also, and some 
of those just going out, seem likely to be valuable friends. 
He gave us a beautiful declamation in Hall on George Herbert, 
which he is printing (not publishing) at Martin s request. We 
had Thackeray at Cambridge to deliver his six lectures on 
English Humorists of last century ; I heard all but the last. 


They were very delightful and on the whole good. I did not 
meet him while he was there. 

I have now had a term of the Apostles, and, on the whole, 
like them; ridentem dicere verum seems their motto, and, of 
course, the verum is now and then sunk in the risus, but not, 
I think, substantially. 

And so poor Turner is gone at last ! and even the Times 
says calmly, " The fine arts in England have not produced a 
more remarkable man than Joseph Mallard William Turner." 
I have not seen any other critiques. Only think how fast the 
giants fall Wordsworth, and Peel, and Turner ; and soon, I 
fear, the glorious old Duke. I got a number of delightful anec 
dotes, etc., about Turner three or four weeks ago from W. T. 
Kingsley, and saw part of the Liber Studiorum (and hope to 
see the rest next term), and one or two glorious water-color 
drawings of his. While I think of it, let me beg you to look 
up on the heath near you for ripe seed of Ulex nanus ; to 
make sure, you had better gather from unmistakably dwarf 
furze bushes. We want them much for the Cambridge Botanical 
Garden ; if not ripe now, you may possibly get them before 
you leave Easebourne. 

I think it is since I wrote at Cambridge that the Voluntary 
List has come out. It is scarcely worth mentioning, but you 
may be glad to hear that, when I went for my certificate to 
Blunt, he told me he had had very great pleasure in looking 
over my papers, etc. He asked if I were residing to go in for 
a fellowship. I told him I had just missed one, and that of 
course my reading for it had greatly interfered with my reading 
for the Voluntary. He said he should not have thought it. 
At going out he wished me all success very warmly. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, January 2nd, 1852. 

. . . Your prophecy has proved seemingly true; I am 
sticking at 2 Thess. ii. But, for all that, you are no true 
prophet, I make bold to say. I work very regularly from half- 
past ten to half-past eleven every evening, and get on so (com- 


paratively) smoothly that there is a good chance of getting 
through a respectable proportion of my prescribed task. That 
troublesome chapter has occupied many hours, but it is a 
great satisfaction that at last I have gained some light upon the 
matter, though a great deal remains to be cleared up. What 
assures me most is that my view seems to combine in a certain 
degree all others, to be analogous to the acknowledged inter 
pretation of other prophecies, and to make the whole passage 
a beautiful illustration of the meaning of prophecy and 
inspiration, getting completely rid of Olshausen s preliminary 
discussion as to the subjective or objective nature of the 
passage. Verses 6 and 7 seem to me to have been quite 
misunderstood as to their construction. I wish I could make 
up my mind as to whether a Menschwerdung des Satans really 
widerstrebt dem denkenden Verstande and dent frommen Gefuhle, 
but incline to think not. But this and other points must be 
kept for conversation. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, January 24//&, 1852. 
. . . We must have some talk about 2 Thess. ii. when we 
meet. Apparently we shall agree in most points ; but is there 
any real ground for applying 6 Kar^v to the Roman Empire ? 
if so, what was the immediate anti-christian manifestation that 
was to follow its removal ? I take the immediate fulfilment 
of the whole to be the Fall of Jerusalem, which, from my view 
of the connexion of O. and N. T., I probably think of more 
importance than you do. God Himself seems to me to be 
6 Kare^wv ; but of course, in that case, I should adopt a differ 
ent grammatical construction from the usual one ; as, indeed, I 
should do on other grounds. I can make nothing of the 
order of r?ys d 


HARDWICK, January 26th, 1852. 

... I heard that Hypatia was to be an exposition of 
modern politics; the Church the friend of democracy, the 


heathen, and especially the Neo-Platonists (whom he wants 
to make out Emersonians), of aristocracy ; and so poor 
Hypatia s murder a most proper and Christian punishment 
for the sin of being an aristocrat ! I hope this is not true, 
but have my fears. 

Do you feel warm on National Defences? I confess I 
do, and have distant visions of taking to rifle practice and I 
know not what. 


HARDWICK, January zjth, 1852. 

. . . It is strange, the placid disgust with which one (at 
least I can answer for one fraction of that indefinite pronoun) 
hears of the successive developments of the famous Coodytar. 1 
Have you any strong opinions about National Defences ? I 
confess I have, and have indeed had for several years ; only 
it is no use indulging them at times when nobody cares about 
the subject. But I hope people are at last beginning to open 
their dull eyes. It will be not a little fun if we get rifle 
corps (what is the plural of corps ? not corpses, I hope) 
all over the country. This business of the Iron Engineers is 
likewise painfully interesting ; but it is rare to find the justice 
so wholly monopolised by one side of quarrelling folks. I 
did not give the masters credit for so much courage and 
firmness, but I fear they are by no means sure of success. 


CAMBRIDGE, Febrtiary %tk, 1852. 

... I am in the midst of Gladstone s most significant 
and invaluable Letter to the Bishop of Aberdeen on lay 
membership of synods. I don t know that I agree with him 
on the final result at least as a matter of principle, for in 
practice it may perhaps be necessary, but the letter is a 
model of calm, practical, Christian wisdom. 

I am at work for the Hulsean, and have an awful list of 

1 = Coup d etat. 

AGE 23 



Apologists before me. I long to be rid of dear, good, prosy 
Justin Martyr, and in the midst of Tertullian and Origen, and 
still more Athanasius, Theodoret, and Augustin. I rather 
like Hypatia, but think it shows signs of the perversion I 
spoke of before. By the way, those good monks are not, I 
think, the real live Manichaeans ; the latter are surely yet to 
come followers of Mani, I mane (forgive me !) Indeed I 
am beginning to think that Maurice, etc., are not strictly right 
in giving the name Manichseans to the Latin Tertullianistic 
and monkish glorification of holy virginity ; the more exact 
counterpart of Manichseism, I think, occurs in Origen and 
the very opposite Alexandrine school. Maurice (whom I saw 
in passing through London) told me that Kingsley prefaced 
Hypatia by stating that all the seeming modernisms were 
literal translations from the Greek; I have seen no such 
preface. Maurice said, significantly, that he was sure 
Kingsley would not intentionally misrepresent old circum 
stances. Maurice recommended me Babylon and Jerusalem, 
a pamphlet by Dr. Abeken in reply to some furious anti- 
Protestant publications of Countess Ida Hahn Hahn, who 
has emerged from the vanities of the world into the seriosities 
of Romanism. Parker has published a nice translation of it. 
Maurice called it the best book published in Germany for 
some years. It certainly is a grand book, honest, hearty, 
and wise, and without a particle of German philosophism, 
though there are defects, natural to a Lutheran. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 26tk, 1852. 

... If you see the Spectator, you must have been some 
what startled to learn by its publication of last Saturday that 
" The Hall of Trinity College, Cambridge, was destroyed by 
fire yesterday. Nothing but the walls remain ! " A friend of 
mine wrote to me in much natural agitation about it. You 
will probably, however, have learned by the other papers that 
the scene of the conflagration was Trinity Hall College, much 
of the front building of which was really gutted by fire on 


Friday. My bedmaker woke me violently about half-past 6 
saying that it was on fire, and Latham had sent to rouse 
Trinity. When I reached the spot, the flames were bursting 
out in fine style, but there was a dearth of buckets. So I ran 
back and routed out the bedmakers on every staircase in the 
New Court, and made them bring all their young gentle 
men s pails. Of course we had several lines of buckets, but 
the disposition of lanes and buildings was not favourable to 
those mysterious concatenations of human beings. However 
I got away at half-past 9, the fire being then effectually got 
under, though the engines were obliged to go on playing till 
half-past 12. Five sets of rooms were destroyed, and 
several others injured, as well as much furniture, etc. The 
College is scatheless, having put on an additional insurance of 
some thousands only a few days before. A marvellous number 
of watches vanished from their owners pockets in the con 

Westcott has been away from Cambridge this term, having 
been taking Keary s place at Harrow during the latter s illness, 
and now to-day we hear that he is dead. I suppose Westcott 
will remain there permanently. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 2$th, 1852. 

... In the autumn the Botanical Society of London 
announced that they were going to distribute a good stock of 
specimens of foreign plants to such of their members as wished 
for them. I should not have thought it worth while to spend 
any money upon them ; but, as they were to be had for the 
asking, and I knew I should make at least as good use of 
them as nineteen-twentieths of the members, I applied for a 
list of what they had, and marked all I in decency could. 
And this morning they have arrived with some rare British 
plants, and very beautiful some of them are, especially the 
Swiss grasses ; I find also among them a piece of olive from 
Athens, and something else from the slopes of Hymettus. 

You will be somewhat amused at something I did last week. 


On the Tuesday (at 4) I got a kind letter from Gerald Blunt, 
describing his forlorn state, as he was left in sole charge of 
the parish in his rector s absence, and he was unwell and 
always found the work hard. Near the end he said, " If you 
want employment, send me down by Thursday a little sermon," 
giving a text, as it was to be part of a series. When I read 
it, I took it for a joke ; but in the evening it struck me that 
he really was in a hard plight, and that it would be great fun to 
surprize him with a sermon, if only I could manage it, but I 
feared it would take me days to write one ; and it must go 
the next morning at 10, or it would be of no use. However 
I sat down to make the attempt, though I had not a moment 
to spare for thought or arrangement, and expected very soon 
to stick and have to give it up as a bad job. But somehow 
I went on and on, time slipping away imperceptibly ; at last 
finished it (in exactly five hours), sealed it, and sent it the next 
morning ; and have since had the pleasure of receiving very 
warm thanks for it. 1 

CAMBRIDGE, March 26th (vel potius i A.M. March 27^), 1852. 

... I have just learned from Scott that you are coming 
up early next week, but he does not know the day. I hope 
you will be here for our last musical meeting of the term, 
which is to be on Wednesday night. We have got Mozart s 
Mass in very tolerable order (except the movement cum 
Sancto Spiritu, which we have sung but twice, and one or two 
runs elsewhere), and shall be delighted to have you joining in 
it ; I fear I am getting a most Popish predilection for the Latin 

. . . The ghostly papers have at last arrived un- 
mutilated from Barry, whom Gordon has brought into the 
Society ; we are also going to ask Thrupp to join, who has just 
arrived from the East, without, however, many additions to his 
languages, excepting barbarous theories about pronouncing 
Greek by accent entirely, and purism as to gutturals. 

1 Mr. Blunt found the sermon in question too long, and cut it in half. 



HARDWICK, April 8th, 1852. 

... I have been working pretty hard for the Hulsean, for 
which I have laid down a sufficiently ambitious plan. It 
would be a physical impossibility to realise it for the whole 
period before October ; but I mean to try to do so tolerably 
for the Ante-Nicene period (so as, if possible, to bear down all 
competition), treating the subsequent centuries superficially; 
meaning, if successful, to work them up to the standard of 
the early part before publication. If I have but time, I think 
I shall be able to make a serviceable book, but the reading 
required is prodigious. All in Church and State seems hidden 
behind a thick veil ; no one can guess what is coming, We 
have been this term occupied at Cambridge with two successive 
lectures on Electrobiology, which certainly affords most 
extraordinary phenomena. I did not choose to pay a guinea 
to be taught the art ; but yet I succeeded perfectly up to a 
certain point with a gentleman two nights ago. 


HARDWICK, April i^th, 1852. 

... I do not know whether the Society for Promoting 
Association has itself helped the strike, but suspect not ; I 
will try to find out at Cambridge through the Macmillans, 
but do not like asking Maurice or Kingsley about it, as I 
wish to avoid the subject with them as far as possible. 
Davies tells me that Maurice s name appeared some time 
ago prominently in the committee of an Omnibus Drivers 
Association, but that it has lately been withdrawn, which is 
somewhat significant. I do hope the Masters will now use 
the noble opportunity they have to be gracious, and show that 
they really wish to treat their workmen like men, though they 
will not for a moment tolerate rebellious dictation. But, I 
should think, the time can hardly be far off when Government 
will really think the commercial fabric of the country not 
beneath their notice and government 



CAMBRIDGE, May nth, 1852. 

. . I send you two ghostly papers ; l you can have more 
if you want them, but I find they go very fast, and the 750 
copies which we printed go by no means far enough. We are 
promised a large number of well-authenticated private stories, 
but they have not arrived yet. Our most active members are, 
however, absent from Cambridge ; to wit, Westcott at Harrow, 
and Gordon 2 at Wells. The latter says that Macaulay is 
horrified at the paper, as a proof how much Puseyism is 
spreading in Cambridge ! and some other eminent Edinburgh 
Reviewer (I forget who) thinks it highly unphilosophical in us 
to assume the existence of angels which, by the way, we don t 
do (for our classification is only of phenomena ), though 
I don t suppose any of us would shrink from the assump 


CAMBRIDGE, May nth and zist, 1852. 

My dear Westcott I can hardly believe that it is nearly 
six weeks since I saw you here ; but so it is, and I must not 
put off writing any longer. My vacation was curiously broken 
up. The new tubular suspension-bridge at Chepstow was in 
process of being got into its place (i.e. the tube thereof), and, 
thanks to the several steps of the process, and the numerous 
procrastinations and false alarms connected with each, a great 
number of hours was lost from enjoyment of home. . . . 

During the vacation I distributed some eight or ten 
ghostly papers, and have been promised some narratives 
from Scotland. Blunt showed me one MS. of what appears 
to be a well-known story concerning Lady Tyrone; the 
account was known to have come originally from her family, 
but the paper was marked as copied in 1805 (I think), and 
there was no means of ascertaining its exact parentage. 

1 i.e. Prospectuses of the Ghostly Guild. 
2 The Hon. A. H. Gordon, now Lord Stanmore. 


I left a paper on my table the other evening when the 
Ray met here, and it excited some attention, but not, I think, 
much sympathy. Dr. - - was appalled to find such a spot 
of mediaeval darkness flecking the light serene of Cambridge 
University in the nineteenth century. There were also grave 
smiles and civil questions; and finally several copies were 
carried off. . . . 

I have just had (May 2ist) a young Tubingen theological 
student here, who came bringing an introduction from a 
friend, and was visiting England to learn something about 
English theology and English Universities. He was very 
intelligent and gentlemanly, but I have had a great job 
in describing to him University organisation. Schleiermacher 
he spoke of as the man who is exerting most influence in 
Germany. Moral questions seem intermixed with theology in 
a very un-Whewellian fashion. He says that even the most 
orthodox care nothing for the theology of the three Creeds, 
even where they accept it ; which is itself rare with many 
whom we should on other accounts call orthodox. The 
great problem, he says, is agreed on nearly all hands to be the 
adjusting of a Christian faith which shall touch other parts of 
man besides his mere intellect. One would think that they 
would not have far to go in their quest before finding the 
thing sought if only they could learn to find some divine 
meaning in the words Church or Creeds. 


CAMBRIDGE, May 2%th, 1852. 

. . . The Peelites do, as you say, seem the only hope 
of the country, but more minute study of Gladstone s speeches, 
etc., and talk with Gordon about him, have made me doubt 
his possessing the unity and harmony of mind requisite to 
make him a second Burke, though he towers far above nearly, 
if not quite, all our other statesmen. Walpole seems to 
promise something ; this ministry will at least have achieved 
the good of bringing him out. Of course I agree with all you 
say of your views of social politics (with the possible exception 

AGE 24 



of association which, however, I am disposed to allow 
remedially in small doses), and am thankful that you have 
reached them, though I felt sure it would be only a question 
of time. 

I know more or less your several spots of halting, having 
spent some weeks at Ryde in the summer of 42 before it was 
made a semi-royal watering-place ; though even then it was 
dashing enough. Southsea always took my fancy ; there is 
something so jolly about that comfortably stout, well-to-do 
castle, squatted independently plump on the flat shore, as if 
the architect had sent it down with a pat like a lump of stiff 
clay or putty. The teeth of Portsmouth and the Solent are truly 
wonderful. I know no place where the beaverism 1 (?) of the 
nineteenth century becomes so human and, as it were, spiritual 
as the dockyard ; all is stern work for a stern purpose no 
pomps and vanities and no greediness of pelf. I confess I 
didn t like Ventnor, but Bonchurch is perfection ; and now 
the exquisite loveliness of the place is strangely intertwined 
with mournful associations. One cannot forget poor Sterling 
there, and Adams, and others whom I cannot recall just now. 
But Bonchurch is not genuine Undercliff, and therefore I hope 
you went on to Niton ; the view of the sea and shore from 
the beach near Black Gang Chine is grander than anything 
in the Island. Alum Bay is pretty, but a mere toy. The 
Needles and Freshwater cliffs are, however, noble, but I saw 
them only on a voyage round the Isle. 


HARDWICK, June zgth, 1852. 

. . . When I was in London I saw the Royal Academy. 
The pre-Raphaelites (Millais at least) are past description. I 
was disappointed at first at the first of them I looked at, 
Millais s * Huguenot, but found that the deficiencies arose 
simply from his scrupulous and honest humility ; he can t yet 
paint a background, or air, or distance at all, and so he doesn t 
try it, but arranges his picture so as to get rid of them, and 

Word nearly illegible. 


place all in simple noontide sunshine. One is struck at the 
utter absence of even the quietest melodramatic or even true 
attitudinising. There is no clinging, no convulsion. The 
points of contact and union are simply the eyes, and the faces 
as ministering to the eyes ; and further, all four hands are 
strained to the utmost ; the girl s two at the two ends of the 
white badge, the man s right (which passes lightly round her head 
and his own left arm, not embracing her) holding the loop of 
it from being drawn tight, and his left smoothing, or rather 
pressing, back the hair from her right temple and compressing 
her head at the same time. Neither face is very intellectual 
or beautiful ; both are common, and yet both people on whom 
one could lean instinctively, so true and strong and tender and 
free from all frivolity. Then the desperately calm, intense (not 
at all violent) look of her uplifted, quiet eyes, and the strange 
answer which his face gives ; at first I thought that he rather 
pitied and despised her emotion, but really loving her, tried to 
look concerned in the midst of his smile ; but I did him cruel 
wrong. He is intensely moved (though not a whit shaken), but 
tries to put on a calm and resigned and almost cheerful look 
for her sake. So thoroughly human a picture I never saw, 
full also of the deepest and purest Wordsworthian beauty. 
Ophelia is hard to describe, but it is scarcely if at all 
inferior, though less interesting. It is indeed like the beginning 
of a new era to other things than painting. 

It is very pleasant to see what good service Gladstone has 
been doing of late in the House of Commons, but I fear he is 
damaging himself with the public. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, June 29^, 1852. 

. . . Certainly I cannot but be pleased at your having 
bought (and, may it be hoped? read) Maurice s Kingdom 
of Christ, for you seem to me to have misunderstood his 
position and objects. But I have thought for years, ist, 
that he is intelligible and profitable to a person so far as 
that person needs him, and no farther; 2nd, that the most 

AGE 24 



substantial benefit which he confers is that of enabling us to 
enter into, sympathize with, and profit by the writings of 
others ; in short, to realize truly the connexion between their 
sayings and their selves. Similarly, he seems to me to be a 
most acute interpreter to us of our own confused thoughts. 
You will therefore easily see that I regard him as a man to be 
valued and loved, far more than admired and glorified. 

... I have hardly ever come into contact with anything 
belonging to German Theology without being chilled by the 
way in which it seems almost universally regarded by its 
warmest cultivators as an interesting scholastic speculation 
(Dr. Abeken s Babylon and Jerusalem is a notable exception), 
and feeling thankful that we English cannot forget that the 
Truth is that in which we daily live, whatever penalty we may 
pay for our privilege in the shape of theological factions. 

... It will not do to get too discursive, but the news 
papers have of late given us plenty of food for thought ; 
every week seems to bring us nearer to the consummation, 
the separation of Church and State. Thank you very much 
for asking me to come to you at Harrow. I do hope to give 
myself that enjoyment some time, but I am going to be at 
Cambridge all the Long, partly for Fellowship, but chiefly for 
Hulsean, which I am very anxious to do serviceably. 


CAMBRIDGE, August $th, 1852. 

... On the whole I am not sorry at being thus restricted 
to the Hulsean, respecting which you kindly ask. I have 
roughly completed the Chronology, including innumerable 
notes or dissertations (for appendices) on chronological, his 
torical, and critical points, and a few fragments of translations 
or analysis ; likewise three or four pages of the Introduction, 
which requires very delicate and cautious treatment, as it is 
mostly on the subject how development is applicable to a 
revelation, the object being to show that, in spite of theological 
changes, the defences made by the Fathers are useful to us 



CAMBRIDGE, August 6th, 1852. 

. . . We who have been rovers all our lives have per 
haps no great right to urge others not to migrate ; but 
even gypsies, I suppose, would hardly advise all the world 
to follow their vagabond example. I have been anything 
but shaken by lately meeting with precisely the opposite 
advice by an American, who says that "human nature will 
not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and 
replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same 
worn-out soil." Can you imagine a more cruel insult to the 
poor potato, who is kept by transplanting in a state of per 
petual gout for our benefit, and gets twitted when he tries to 
get back to his natural state by making himself a home ? By 
the way, this reminds me of a very curious discovery (lately 
published in the Gardener s Chronicle) made by some French 
practical botanists. The origin and native country of our 
cultivated corn has been for ages a question of great difficulty. 
The true wheat was said three or four years ago to have been 
found on the Altai mountains, in the heart of Asia ; but there 
appears to be some doubt as to whether it was not even there 
the remains of old cultivation. But these botanists have been 
for years experimenting on the cultivation of several grasses, 
and have at last obtained, by sowing and resowing from two 
species of the genus sEgilops, two common varieties ot 
wheat, the common wheat being produced from SEgilops 
triticea or wheat-like SEgilops? Some botanists are in a 
terrible fright, and think that this discovery unsettles the 
whole foundations of the science of botany; but that only 
shows how vague their own notions of science are. Thank 
you about the bramble, but I do not wish it cut, even for 
specimens, which could be obtained at Itton ; what I wanted 
was to have a good healthy bush near home, to study growing. 
I felt so convinced of its distinctness from all well-known 
species, that I gave it to Babington with a new name, but told 
him I should not publish it till I was more familiar with it. 
I am glad now I did so ; for strolling with him the other day 


in the Botanic Garden, I came on some brambles grown from 
seed, some of mine and some from Mr. Bloxam in Leicester 
shire ; among the latter I immediately recognised one bush as 
the Monmouthshire kind. It came under the name of a species 
which has always puzzled me, having seen but two or three 
dried specimens ; it was only known to grow at Rugby. So 
the already published name comes in very conveniently to be 
joined on to the observations which I had made independently. 
Babington is very glad, as a double scandal is thus avoided, 
ist, of describing a new species, and 2nd, of dropping an old 
one. The Orobanche which I found the day I walked with 
you to New House proves, as I expected, to be O. ctzrulea. 
There is a record above half a century old of its having been 
found somewhere in Glamorganshire ; but it has been doubted, 
as it is known to grow only in Hants, Herts, and Norfolk. 
You would be amused at the duties which fall to me this 
vacation as senior bachelor in residence. I have every day 
after dinner to order second course for the next (taking with 
me one or two counsellors) ; but fortunately the cheapness of 
fruit renders it no very hard matter to provide for our table. 
One of my colleagues the other day wished for Norfolk 
dumplings ; and they sent us up dry doughboys, which required 
to be cut with a knife ! 

I will certainly read Forsyth s life, if you wish, if I see it 
again ; but I have looked into it before two or three times, 
and, I confess, been somewhat repelled. Pray do not fancy 
that I think I do not want such spurs, or set myself above 
them. But there is about that and most similar books an 
artificial atmosphere which stifles me, and makes me unable to 
appropriate the genuine good which is there. But do not the 
less believe that I am more than ever your affectionate son, 



CAMBRIDGE, August i$tfi, 1852. 

... On the 23rd I got a line from Blunt to say that he, 
his wife, sister, and mother were in town, and when would I 
go and see them, as I had already more than half promised to 



do. I wrote to say I would be there next day (Saturday), 
and delightful hours those forty-eight were. The Chevalier 
Bunsen had pounced upon them the moment they were in 
town, and been as kind as could be to them ; they had dined 
at the Embassy, and now he (Blunt) had to call there, and I 
called with him. Luckily the Chevalier was at home, and 
so we had a most cosy and friendly chat with him for the 
best part of an hour, mostly about his book (now in the 
press) on St. Hippolytus, and in fact on many things in early 
Church History and theology. It would be too long to talk 
much about it now ; but it will evidently be a very interesting 
book, but, I fear, sadly heretical. It concludes with an 
Apology of St. Hippolytus to the English people, at the 
Great Exhibition of all nations, May 1851. On Sunday 
afternoon Gerald and Julia Blunt and I walked through the 
thunderous rain to Lincoln s Inn, and had the usual luxuries 
there in service and sermon (on the mischief of compromise 
in re Protestantism v. Catholicism) not very new or striking ; 
afterwards I had just time to shake hands with Maurice and 
introduce Blunt. In the evening I read them a MS. sermon 
of Maurice s (whereof more anon) which I had brought with 
me as a thing which they would like to see. 

On the 2 Qth I went with Babington and Newbould for 
thirty-six hours to Newmarket, to explore the botany of the 
country north of it. 

Maurice has written and is revising two new volumes of 
sermons on the Kings and Prophets. He sent down here 
the first six, which Macmillan lent me, and it was one of 
them I took to London. The first (on Samuel as prophet, 
and last of the judges anointing the first king) is very good 
and beautiful, with a strange pathetic apology (so I take it) 
for himself as taking part in things which he dislikes, because 
they seem part of the coming act in the great world drama 
which is all part of God s order. The second is indescribably 
wonderful ; it literally makes one quiver, and is rich in poetry 
to a marvellous extent ; it is on * Saul among the Prophets - 
in short, Saul s life. The third is not much less beautiful, 
on David before his accession. The fourth also good, on 
David as king. Fifth not so good, on Solomon. Sixth ditto, 

AGE 24 



but interesting and pregnant, on Rehoboam and the schism 
in the tribes, taken as a type of all schisms. 

I am not in a very comfortable way as to Fellowships. 
Against me there are in my own year Schreiber and Bea- 
mont, both medallists and therefore senior ops, one above, 
the other equal to me in the Tripos, both having read at 
least quadruple my amount of classics. In the other year 
is Lightfoot, a double man of boundless reading, who would 
have got one last time, Thompson said, if he had tried. . . . 

I am getting on with my Essay slowly enough, and yet 
have written a vast deal ; but I am working more regularly 
than I have done since I have been at Cambridge, at all events 
since my first term. 


CAMBRIDGE, August z^rd, 1852. 

. . . Please mention your Brighton address, as I want to 
lose no time in writing to Henry Bradshaw of King s, whose 
mother has just taken a house there in permanence, and I 
want to put in a line asking him to call on you. He is 
young (between his second and third year, I think), but, I am 
inclined to think, about the nicest fellow in Cambridge. 


CAMBRIDGE, August 31^, 1852. 

Dear Mr. Kingsley As you gave a gracious reception 
to the notes which I wrote on your Dialogue l the other day 
at Macmillan s request, I make bold to add two fresh sug 
gestions. No. i comes from Macmillan himself, who is far 
better versed in Bohn s translations of Plato than I am in the 
original. Surely Euthyphron 2 is a bad name for your 
ingenui vultus puer. He was a pxvrts in some sense or other, 
a pious one, who thought to show off his piety by prosecuting his 
father for murder. Either Charmides or Glaucon would 

1 Phaethon. 

2 Apparently the name first chosen for the interlocutor, afterwards 
called Phaethon. 


suit you exactly, if you didn t mind their beauty. Glaucon at 
the beginning of the second book of the Republic does very 
much as your Euthyphro, but his name is not so attractive as 
the others, and I do not know whether his age and that of 
Alcibiades agreed. On the other hand, Charmides, a dear 
boy, was certainly his contemporary. But, if beauty is a 
disqualification, I despair of finding you a substitute for 
Euthyphro. Ugly boys were rarities in Athens, I fancy. 
So apparently you must put up with a pretty one, and drop 
the disparaging words. 1 Suggestion No. 2 relates to the 
Pnyx. As the place of Assembly was on the N.E. side 
of the Pnyx-hill, Sunium would be hidden from persons 
standing there, even if there are no spurs of Hymettus in the 
way. Further, as Sunium is due S.E. of Athens, the sun 
could hardly rise there ; and it will not do to say that you 
do not mean that it rises exactly over Sunium, for then 
Hymettus himself is in your way. The simplest way will be 
to say nothing about Sunium. By the bye, the regular hour 
of meeting was daybreak, which leaves little time for the 
Dialogue ; but the passage in the Acharnians which gives the 
rule, shows likewise that the magistrates were not always 
punctual. I have hardly space to say how much I liked both 
Dialogue and Prologue, but that is no matter. Ever most 
truly yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

The above notes are perhaps in themselves trivial 
enough, but any who in later years sought literary 
criticism from Hort before publication, will appreciate 
the jealous accuracy of which his friends no less than his 
own books reaped the benefit. More serious criticism 
of the finished Dialogue will be found later on. 


CAMBRIDGE, September i^th, 1852. 

... I have never read the Tracts for the Times, but the 
perfect clearness and keenness of Newman always gives me 
1 This appears to have been clone. 


pleasure ; at the same time it is rather like a very pure knife- 
edge of ice. I believe he has really a warm heart, but he has 
put it to school in a truly diabolic way. 

By the way, have you read Uncle Torrfs Cabin ? if not, do. 
I cannot at all understand how so good a book has come to be 
so praised. If you saw the Times review, however (which is an 
exception), you will need no further recommendation ; it 
could be no poor or trivial book which could stir up such 
deep blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. 

I once spent a most delightful week at Lynmouth, but I 
enjoy Ilfracombe far more. I do hope you not only saw it, 
but encamped there for some days. The breezy freshness, 
the free toss of the wavelike Tors, the swelling hills with 
woody ravines ending in such sweet combes, and its rocky 
shore with transparent pools, full of the richest forms of life, 
give it for me a charm like very few other places. 


CAMBRIDGE, September 26//z, 1852. 

My dearest Mother Will you have the kindness to abstain 
from calling your letters great stuff till you obtain leave 
from me ? Not that I am likely, I hope, ever to give you 
leave, but that makes no matter ; one s thoughts and one s 
sayings do sometimes coincide ; so till you get leave, abstain. 
But I am far from uninterested in your details of household 
arrangements. . . . There is not a wide sphere here for me 
to have domestic arrangements in, much less to describe 
them, gyps and bedmakers being only charmen (are there such 
beings ?) and charwomen. The whole family consists of my 
self and my books, and the latter are very silent (so indeed is 
the former). I had the other day seventy volumes of them on 
the table, more or less in use ; but as the libraries close on 
Wednesday, I shall be quite deserted then. The remaining 
member of the family that marked No. i has been attain 
ing a comparatively wonderful amount of regularity and 
punctuality, seldom missing Morning Chapel, taking a spunge 
bath every morning, taking constant walks, and working more 
steadily and continuously than for several years. 



CAMBRIDGE, October 12th, 1852. 

My dearest Mother Very many thanks for your congratu 
lations, which are not the less welcome or valued because of 
their seeming limitation. For my own part, I value the 
Fellowship l chiefly as means of future, even more than present 
influence. But of course the more efficacious it is in that 
respect, the greater is the responsibility ; and therefore I shall 
need your affectionate prayers more than ever, and I know I 
shall have them. It is, as you say, a very odd feeling, but 
the prominent one is increased pride and interest in the 
College ; but the charm would be snapped instantaneously if 
I thought of it for a moment as anything but a temporary 

The Essay, such as it is, must be sent in to-morrow week. 
It is on the early defenders of Christianity against heathens 
and Jews in the first four centuries. With much love, your 
affectionate son, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE, October Wi and 13^, 1852. 

. . . You evidently estimate the event 2 as I do, not so 
much as an honour as an acquisition of a vantage ground 
from which whatever message may be committed to us is 
likely to be listened to with more attention. But it makes 
one tremble the more lest any idle words should bring dis 
credit on a body which has inherited such a weight of 
authority earned by speaking the full truth. 

I have got the Beitrage, but have hardly had time to 
look at them yet. But, so far as I have used Credner s 
Introduction (which is not much), I can quite confirm your 
high opinion of him ; and his abstinence from unnecessary 
verbiage is a very great merit indeed. But it seems to me 

1 The following were admitted Fellows in 1852 : C. Schreiber, W. 
J. Beamont, F. J. A. Hort, J. B. Lightfoot. 

2 His election to a Fellowship. 



pretty plain that well -trained English classical scholars are 
likely to become much better sacred critics than Germans. 
The union of the two characters seems rare in Germany, and 
not usually felicitous where it does take place. 

You must have misunderstood me about Newman. Many 
of his sayings and doings I cannot but condemn most strongly. 
But they are not Newman ; and him I all but worship. Few 
men have been privileged to be the authors of such incalcu 
lable blessings to the world (though perhaps not a hundred 
acknowledge the fact), and therefore few have had his 
temptations. Unhappily the hard-hearted, scornful, and lying 
persecution which he had so long to bear did its work upon 
him but too effectually. Still even now it were most wrong 
to confound the cry of agony with a mocking laugh, or 
rather to forget how both may be mingled in the same sound. 


CAMBRIDGE, November 14^, \ g 
HARDWICK, December 14^, J 

My dear Ellerton Time passes terribly, and it is with no 
little shame that I see your last letter bears date exactly a 
month back. One thing is that I am President of the Union, 
and debates, private business meetings, adjourned private busi 
ness meetings, library committees, standing committees, and 
private consultations about all manner of meetings and com 
mittees, take up a good deal of time. Likewise I have begun 
to take pupils, or, to speak correctly, a pupil, for no more have 
come to me. As it turns out, I am not so sorry that I have 
no more ; for he is a good one, and occupies my time largely, 
I have to make so much preparation for him. In fact I am 
learning Greek far more rapidly than I have done all the time 
I have been up. Then C. B. Scott and I read Hebrew 
together any time that I can spare on Monday, Wednesday, 
and ^Friday evenings. On Wednesday there is the Ray, on 
Friday our musical class (in which we are singing Beethoven s 
wonderful Mass in C, the treble of the accompaniment of the 
Kyrie Eleison of which I played (?) to you in a manner when 


you were here), and on Saturday the Apostles/ to the 
college of whom we last night admitted Farrar. Further, I 
have been constantly correcting the sheets of Maurice s Kings 
and Prophets, which come revised from his hands in the 
most ludicrous state of inaccuracy ; I am sure six corrections 
a page would be under the average, but the majority of these 
belong to punctuation. You will now be able partly to under 
stand how, not having yet recovered regular hours, I have 
found myself short of time, and have not even done any read 
ing of my own of any regular kind. 

I promised to give you some details about the Fellowship, 
but really there is very little to tell. In Classics Lightfoot 
was of course first, and Benson second, chiefly, I believe, from 
a beautiful translation of " Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, 
and ran," in Morte d Arthur, into Greek Hexameters. I 
gather that I was third in Classics, but I am not absolutely 
sure ; I was at all events, Thompson told me, quite sure from 
the very first (which was said of no one else), and all the 
early papers were classical. Mathematics were almost zero 
to me. The History papers were so absurd (mostly techni 
calities about modii, rates of interest, etc.) that no one but 
Beamont did respectably. In Philosophy I was far ahead of 
everybody. I wrote a good deal on one question about 
Natural and Artificial systems, to be illustrated from Botany, 
and my answer seems to have made quite a sensation. 
Sedgwick, I hear, has been talking in the most extravagant 
way about it, saying that no man in England could have 
written such a one, and indignantly trampling on somebody 
who suggested that Henslow might write as good a one ! ! ! 
Beamont came out considerably, and did very much better 
than last year; he was next to me in Philosophy. He is 
gone off to the East alone, with the intention of making his 
way to Mecca, disguised as a Mahometan pilgrim ! I believe 
that there is no more to say about the Fellowship except that 
I was elected unanimously. 

My Essay went in on the 2oth (or rather A.M. 2ist) at 
great length, but in a singularly imperfect state ; all the 
period from Tertullian to Augustine being merely a cata 
logue of names and dates, interspersed with fragments and 

AGE 24 



critical and chronological notes. It would take too long, 
or I would tell you the extraordinary hurry in which it was 
written out, greatly increased by the unexpected arrival of 
my Bury cousins, the Colletts, to be lionised over Cam 
bridge two days before. Suffice it to say, that I was forty- 
eight hours out of bed, and that E. A. Scott, Bradshaw, an 
hired amanuensis, and myself were writing for the bare life 
in my rooms continuously from half -past 7 P.M. till about 
6 A.M., and to some of us that was only the finale. I meant 
to have gone on rapidly with it this time, and my rooms 
are full of books for the purpose ; but I have had no time 
to do anything. I have a long and very delightful letter to 
thank you for, especially for its account of Brighton affairs 
and your doings, of which I am quite insatiably greedy. I 
am afraid I must have talked big and misled you when you 
were here, for I really know very little actually of Church His 
tory I only know of regions of Church History which are 
popularly ignored. The sources are the Fathers. Eusebius 
himself, the Burnet of the early ages, unmethodical and unfair, 
is yet full of interesting information, especially in his numerous 
quotations. But after all it is very hard to sit down regularly 
to read history without some definite object; and that was 
one great object I had in attempting this Essay. I have at 
least, however, gained the negative advantage of ascertaining 
that there is nothing deserving the name of a Church History in 
existence. Neander is exceedingly useful as a handbook, but 
he is very unfair in his own demure way, besides writing no 
history at all, properly so called. I forget whether when you 
were with me I had got the first (and, as yet, only) volume of 
Thiersch, translated by the Irvingite Carlyle. That is the 
nearest approach to a history that I have seen ; and a very 
good one too, being learned, sensible, spirited, and orthodox. 
The history of the N. T. books seems excellent, so far as I 
have looked at it, and know the subject ; but unluckily the 
volume does not go beyond the Apostolic age. 

My thoughts have for some time converged towards making 
Church History the central object of my reading, with a view 
perhaps to writing a great history years hence, especially con 
taining a full landscape, foreground and background, of the 


times, independently of religious and ecclesiastical matters. 
But the necessary preparation will be enormous. Indepen 
dently of the entire contemporary literature sacred and profane, 
and all the principal modern comments and digests of the 
same from the fifteenth century till now, I shall have to devote 
great labour to discovering and constructing an accurate view 
of the world in all aspects (especially the social) before the 
coming of Christ. Independently of smaller centres, which 
become very important in subsequent Church History, there 
are at least five large distinct heads Rome, Greece, Judaism, 
Persianism, and Egypt. Then there are all the very curious 
mixtures of these, the Graecising of victorious Rome, the 
multitudinous effects of Alexander s conquests, as the Graecis 
ing of Persia, resulting in the stifling of the old faith for several 
centuries and the rise of that strange Parthian empire, and the 
Graecising of Egypt under the Ptolemies with all its strange 
literature, producing Lycophron and Theocritus side by side, 
the Jewish mixtures especially in Samaria and Egypt and 
Leontopolis, the rival Jerusalem of the Egyptian Jews. Then 
there are all the minor tribes, many of them Semitic, of North 
Africa, Pontus, Phrygia, etc., and their mixtures, especially with 
Hellenic culture. All this will, I fear, require much ethno 
logical study. Then this whole state of things arises from the 
fusion of decaying powers, which must therefore be studied in 
their youth and manhood ; you will easily see how much is 
thus rendered necessary. It seems to me that, whether I write 
and publish or not, I shall have to work up three distinct 
treatises : (i) a history of the Jewish nation from Abraham to 
B.C. 300. This will involve all the questions of Hebrew criti 
cism, not only historical but philological, and thus require 
study of the whole range of Semitic languages, not only the 
Aramaic with Syriac and Chaldee, but Arabic, Persian, and 
^Ethiopia (2) A history of Greek philosophy from Thales to 
Aristotle s immediate disciples, Theophrastus, etc., paying 
especial attention to the ante-Socratics (Pythagoras, Hera- 
clitus, and Empedocles in particular), and trying to bring out 
their relation to their unphilosophical contemporaries, especi 
ally the early poets, and to the state of the Greek cities 
generally before the corruption of the fifth century. This will 

AGE 24 



involve imbuing oneself with all the good Greek literature 
a pleasant task enough, but a heavy one. (3) A history of 
the Hellenic world from the death of Alexander the Great 
to the birth of Christ. This will be almost entirely new 
ground; the materials are scanty, and politics had by that 
time reached such a state that philosophy and religion, such 
as they were, must form the main element. The Trpoirapa- 
(TKevr) evayyeAtKTJ has been often enough touched theologically 
for theological purposes ; but I do not think it has been 
attempted with any fulness with a genuine historical purpose ; 
yet few things are more necessary to give the starting-point of 
Church History. This is an alarming catalogue of labours, 
not a tenth part of which will, I suppose, ever be realised. 
At all events, these dreams are between ourselves; anybody 
else would have just reason to laugh at me for them. But 
they may at least give some little purpose and method to 

By the way, I was immensely taken the other day by an 
exquisite song, words and music one inseparable whole ; the 
latter by Schubert, the former by I don t know whom ; it is 
called Einsam? einsam? 

Gordon was kind enough to give me a ticket for St Paul s 
at the funeral, 1 and the temptation was too great to be resisted. 
Unluckily, though near enough to hear everything, and well 
placed for seeing such of the procession as entered the 
building, I was hindered by one of Wren s clumsy, shapeless 
piers from seeing the area and ceremony. But it was an 
infinite pleasure to take part in what I felt to be the real fast 
and humiliation of the nation for all its sins, and solemn ser 
vice in celebration of the last sixty-three years. It is no use 
attempting any description ; the impression, never, I hope, to 
be forgotten, was not a matter of words. To me, perhaps, 
the solemnest part of the whole was the exquisitely chanted, 
" Lord, Thou hast been our refuge from one generation to 
another," so humble and quiet and prostrate and suppliant, 
finally bursting with such perfect and harmonious sequence 
into, "And the Glorious Majesty of the Lord our God be 
upon us : prosper Thou the work of our hands upon us, O 
1 Of the Duke of Wellington. 


prosper Thou our handy work." People found fault with the 
inappropriateness of the concluding anthem from the St. 
Paul, " Sleepers wake ! a voice is calling ! " I don t know 
what Milman meant by it; but I imposed my own mean 
ing, and found it more than appropriate. Dear old Blunt 
gave us a very nice sermon at St. Mary s : the beginning 
commonplace, but he waxed warm, and you can imagine how 
he honoured such a kindred spirit as the Duke. I hope you 
enjoy Tennyson s Ode, which I hear sadly abused here. At 
first I could not make it out ; the words seemed nothing 
remarkable, but there was a mystery about the music of them. 
Another reading, however, enabled me to get into the spirit of 
them and feel their grandeur. For metre I know nothing 
equal. A man named Evans of Emmanuel has got Macmillan 
to publish some more than respectable sonnets on the occasion. 
So much has come before one s mind of late that I am over 
whelmed with matter. But I am sure you must have been 
rejoiced by the debut (oh, what a word !) of Convocation, and 
Hare s delightful speech and fraternization, and Thirlwall s 
perhaps still more valuable mediation in the Upper House. 
Trinity shone out in her proper place ; it was pleasant to see 
Peacock stand up so manfully for dear old Mill. We owe 
much thanks to S. Oxon, who has been the prime mover in 
the whole. 

We had a most noble commemoration sermon at St. Mary s 
from Harvey Goodwin on Reasonable Service. Think of 
his having the boldness to condemn the cropping and 
pollarding young men into a proper clerical state of mind ! 
I am curious to hear what is your opinion of the Restoration 
of Belief ; I fear I stand alone in disliking No. 2. 

You will be much delighted with Maurice s Kings and 
Prophets ; they take quite a new flight ; but I suppose you 
will see them in a day or two. I am anxious also to see the 
little fugitive volume of sermons on the Sabbath, etc., which 
Parker is publishing for him. He gets on very slowly with 
the History of Philosophy, but prints as he goes. I have 
seen all the sheets as yet; they go to St. Clement of Alex 
andria, and are a vast improvement, though far from perfection. 
I have also now in my possession, and am reading, the sheets 

AGE 24 




far as the 


new Warburtonian 

differences, and part of the 

writings of SS. Peter, James, and Paul. Have you seen 
M. Arnold s new poems, Empedocles on Etna, etc. ? they are 
full of genuine beauty, but lack strength and purpose, and 
show painfully how an epicurean, making pleasure the chief 
good (so far as there is good at all), does virtually annihilate or 
sour pleasure ; in a way very satisfactory to me, who always 
contend might and main that pleasure is a good and divine. 



HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, December 15^, 1852. 
My dear Mr. Kingsley This is rather late to thank you 

for Phaethon, * but you must excuse one of my procrastinating 
habits. I put it off in the first instance with the intention of 
writing you a long letter, which I afterwards resolved to spare 

you. did not show me the letter which he finally sent 

you, but I saw his manuscript notes in the margin of his 
copy, and also your reply to his letter, besides having had 
abundance of talk with him on the subject. The impression 
left on my mind exactly coincides with what I have long felt, 
that his state of mind cannot effectually be reached by direct 
attacks of that kind. It is quiet, incidental observations that 
really sink into his mind, and therefore I never seek con 
troversy with him, but am always ready to talk freely as much 
as ever he likes. I doubt whether you realise how very 
deeply his scepticism is seated. . . . His talk brought clearly 
before me what might, I think, be expressed more fully in 
the Dialogue with advantage, viz. that your doctrine finds an 
antagonist not only in a sophistical habit of mind, but in 
the honest philosophical (or unphilosophical) opinion that 
words ought to be, if they are not always, definite labels of 
definite notions, and that it is illogical to give the same 
name, spirit of truth, to the vague notion with which 
Alcibiades starts, and the notion of a personal Spirit of truth 
which is ultimately arrived at ; and that no argument drawn 

1 Sent to Hort in MS. 


from the accidental coincidence of name can be valid. Now 
such an opposition can only be met by acknowledging 
candidly and distinctly the plausibility and prima facie prob 
ability of the opinion on which it rests, and then pointing 
out how nevertheless the instinct of mankind (guided, as you 
or I would say, by the Divine Word) has, consciously or un 
consciously, discovered and recorded in language affinities 
which a deliberate logician, making language, would discard as 
tending to confusion. Again, the worshippers of subjective 
truth might fairly, I think, come down on you and say, 
"All your arguments to prove the superiority of objective 
truth will be pertinent enough when you have shown us that 
it is within our reach ; till then, forgive us for holding fast by 
subjective truth, not from preference but from necessity." 
You give the true answer in the latter part of the Dialogue, 
by saying that the Spirit of truth reveals truth to men, not 
that they discover it for themselves. But I think you do not 
exhibit the relation between that part of the Dialogue and the 
earlier with sufficient expressness. If I am to cavil, I would 
say that you are throughout rather one-sided. This is, I 
think, the respect in which you are least Socratic. You start 
with a certain definite conclusion in your mind, to which you 
conduct your interlocutors. In short, you and your Socrates 
are entirely teachers of what you have learned, and not fellow- 
learners with Alcibiades and Phaethon. Now in Plato we are 
always, I think, feeling our way in certain distinct lines, which 
are at last found to converge, though we do not pursue them 
(indeed, he could not lead us) to the point of convergence, 
but are made to feel that without holding securely certain 
sound clues, we shall only lose our way in speculation. And 
forgive my expressing a wish that you had put (as I under 
stood you intended) a word or two of qualification into 
Socrates last speech, so as to hint that, however absolutely 
the light and the power of receiving it are the gift of God, 
there must nevertheless be a corresponding act of reception 
on the part of man in short, that he has the awful power of 
refusing to receive the fullest light. You asked for all manner 
of criticisms, so I have sent them without scruple. s plea 

for Emerson himself seemed to me very frivolous. Emerson 


is full of wise and beautiful sayings, but they no more grow 
in him than holly in a plum pudding. You might, perhaps, 
have distinguished more clearly between Emerson and his 
ill-educated but far from uncultivated sect, though you 
certainly were explicit enough for most readers comprehen 
sions, and your main drift was to show that his atheism 
implicitly contains and must issue in the debasing superstitions 
of which they already give sign. In this I entirely agree, and 
had (curiously enough) put on paper a similar prophecy the 
night before your MS. arrived. By the way, I hope you will 
be glad to learn that old Dr. Mill praised Phaethon without 
qualification, ascending through a climax of phrases to "A 
very valuable tract indeed." This letter has somehow spun 
itself out to some length, and all about Phaethon. So I will 
only wish you and Mrs. Kingsley and all your belongings a 
happy Christmas, with all the blessings included in it, and 
remain, very affectionately yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

The above criticisms, as well as those contained 
in an earlier letter (on the setting of Phaethon ), 
were written in the midst of heavy work. Kingsley 
was very grateful for the suggestions, "sent straight 
to me, instead of twitting me in a review, as three- 
quarters of the world would." The criticism of more 
important points in the Dialogue induced him to stop 
the press, and add three or four pages to his work. 

In 1853 Hort began to devote himself more 
definitely to work on the lines recently laid down 
for himself. But unfortunately interruption came 
from health. A troublesome skin disorder, the out 
come probably of the scarlet fever of undergraduate 
days, was a source of constant vexation now and for 
some time to come. It led, at the beginning of 1853, 
to his trying the experiment of a water-cure, and he 
spent many weeks under the rather irksome condi 
tions of Umberslade Hydropathic establishment, near 


Knowle. It was during these weeks, in the course of 
a walk with Mr. Westcott, who had come to see him 
at Umberslade, that the plan of a joint revision of 
the text of the Greek Testament was first definitely 
agreed upon. The hydropathic experiment was only 
a partial success. In April Hort returned to Cam 
bridge. In this year he became a Major Fellow of 
Trinity, and took his M.A. degree. He undertook 
some MS. work in the University Library, and was 
appointed examiner for the Le Bas Prize, and for the 
Moral Sciences Tripos of 1854. 

Meanwhile his circle of friends widened : he had 
interesting letters from F. W. Robertson of Brighton, 
whom he only knew through correspondence ; he 
visited Mr. Augustus Jessopp, to whom he gave 
literary help by verifying quotations in the works of 
Dr. Donne. Dr. Jessopp recalls that, two years later, 
it was Hort who introduced him to Mr. George 
Meredith s poems, a volume of which he was carrying 
in his pocket. Through the Apostles he now 
became acquainted with Clerk Maxwell, afterwards 
one of his greatest Cambridge friends, who in this 
year read to the * Apostles a paper with the char 
acteristically baffling title of Idiotic Traps. 

Early in the year Hort had thought of applying to 
Archdeacon Hare for a curacy, and in June the offer 
was actually made through Maurice, whose influence, 
however, decided Hort to remain at Cambridge for the 
present. He was reading for Ordination, for which the 
Bishop of Oxford accepted his fellowship as sufficient 
title. About this time Mr. Daniel Macmillan suggested 
to him that he should take part in an interesting and 
comprehensive New Testament Scheme/ Hort was 
to edit the text in conjunction with Mr. Westcott ; 




the latter was to be responsible for a commentary, 
and Lightfoot was to contribute a New Testament 
Grammar and Lexicon. Another piece of work came 
upon his shoulders through the death of his friend 
Henry Mackenzie. 1 He was of the same standing as 
Hort, and had come up to Trinity after a brilliant 
course at Glasgow. The freshness and vigour of his 
mind are shown in many delightful and humorous 
letters. In 1851 his health had begun to give way, 
and in 1853 he died, after a long and trying illness, 
borne with splendid courage and cheerfulness. In 
1850 he had obtained the Hulsean Prize for an 
essay on * The Beneficial Influence of the Christian 
Clergy on European Progress in the First Ten Cen 
turies. During his illness he employed himself in 
working up his essay for publication. He was busy 
with it till the last, even when he had become too 
weak to lift by himself the books by which his bed 
was surrounded. After his death it was his mother s 
wish that her son s work should be prepared for the 
press by his friend Hort, and he cheerfully undertook 
the charge. Whewell was much interested in it, and 
highly praised the language of the essay. Mackenzie 
had compiled an enormous mass of notes, many of 
them intended for future use, and not as immediate 
illustration of his subject. For instance, according 
to his editor, his notes from Bede were " in fact a most 
complete analysis of everything of any value in that 
author." The work of editing proved heavier than had 
been anticipated, and the essay did not appear till the 
autumn of 1855. The editor s part was done with 

1 Son of Lord Mackenzie, a friend of Sir W. Scott (see Scott s 
Journal, vol. i. p. 207, etc.), and grandson of the author of The Man of 



characteristic care and devotion, which were warmly 
appreciated by Mackenzie s friends, whose only com 
plaint was that the extent of Hort s own work on 
Mackenzie s notes did not sufficiently appear. He must 
have verified an enormous number of references. One 
passage from his introduction to the essay deserves to 
be quoted : " Those who knew Henry Mackenzie will 
recognise these last few words " (a quotation from a letter 
about the essay) " as altogether characteristic of his mind. 
They well convey his hatred of all special pleading, 
most of all in defence of the Faith which was so dear 
to him, along with that trust in history as a guide to 
truth which is happily taking possession of the more 
thoughtful men of England, France, and Germany." 
This sentence shows how nearly akin was Mackenzie s 
mind in some important respects to the editor s own. 

Maurice s expulsion from his posts at King s 
College was of course a great grief to Hort, whose 
first introduction to him had been through correspond 
ence on the very questions on which Maurice s position 
was now pronounced to be heretical. The controversy 
needs not to be now revived. Hort s chief part in it 
was the circulation of an address of sympathy, which 
entailed a great deal of correspondence, and over 
which he took endless trouble and care, although the 
terms of the address did not altogether satisfy him. 

In the winter of 1853 the Journal of Classical and 
Sacred Philology was projected, and in 1854 the first 
number appeared. Hort took from the first an active 
part in establishing this useful publication, which was 
described by one of his friends as a " Kitto s Theo 
logical Journal, Arnold s Theological Critic, and Dobree s 
Adversaria all in one." It received a welcome, amongst 
others, from the Chevalier Bunsen. The inception of 




the undertaking was due to Mr. (now the Rev. Pro 
fessor) J. E. B. Mayor. The project was warmly 
taken up in Trinity, especially by A. A. Vansittart 
W. G. Clark, H. A. J. Munro, W. H. Thompson, and 
E. M. Cope also helped with criticisms and sugges 
tions. The first editors were J. E. B. Mayor, Light- 
foot, and Hort. Hort had only just taken his M.A. 
degree, and Lightfoot was still a B.A. a striking 
recognition of what was even then expected of these 
young scholars. Hort himself wrote largely in the 
Journal, articles, reviews, and notes (see Appendix III.) 

Meanwhile Hort was diligently preparing for his 
Ordination. This was with him no mere matter of 
course, required by the existing college statutes ; the 
purpose which he had declared when a boy at Rugby 
eight years before seems always to have been kept 
steadily before him. The careful answer which he gave 
shortly after his own Ordination to his friend Blunt s 
questions about the nature of a * call to take holy 
orders, is sufficient evidence of the devout deliberation 
with which he had himself taken this step. 

In the summer of the same year he went abroad 
for the first time, except for the early school-days at 
Boulogne. His foreign letters show an extraordinary 
vigour of mind and body. It has seemed worth while 
to print rather long specimens of them, since they 
illustrate his character in more ways than one. Not 
least noticeable is his assurance that his family and 
friends will care to enter into all that he is seeing and 
doing. He did not shrink from the trouble of writing 
two or three elaborate accounts of the same events, 
each of which shows that he was all the time consider 
ing who it was to whom he was writing, and in which 
of his experiences that particular correspondent would 


be specially interested. His own vivid imagination 
enabled him thoroughly to enjoy the recorded experi 
ences of others, and he was therefore eager to share 
with others every pleasure that fell to his own lot. 
In the last year of his life, a short tour which I took 
in Greece was to him the source of almost as much 
delight and excitement as if he had been himself carry 
ing out the long-cherished desire of seeing Delphi and 
Athens, instead of reading of them on a sofa at home. 
After this year health generally required that the 
time available for foreign travel should be spent in the 
Alps. Venice he saw on this first trip, but Florence 
and Rome not till thirty years later. This tour lasted 
nearly three months. Both before and after it much 
time at Cambridge was taken up with the Library 
Syndicate the first appointed and other reforms now 
being discussed in the internal government of the 
University. He felt much anxiety about the proposed 
changes in the condition of the Bachelor s Degree, and 
especially about the proposed introduction of a Theo 
logical Tripos. On this subject he wrote a careful 
letter to the Spectator, defending the rejection of the 
Tripos. He also printed and circulated a pamphlet 
on what he considered mischievous measures, but 
acquiesced in the scheme which was eventually adopted. 
The reasons for his dissatisfaction will better appear at 
a later 1 stage. 


LILLESHALL, January $th, 1853. 

. . . The christening 2 passed off very well on Sunday. 
Baby behaved with the utmost fortitude, though the water 
was not of the sweetest, having been brought from the 

1 See p. 275. 2 Of Mr. Gerald Blunt s first child. 

AGE 24 



Jordan in a small flask. There was at first some doubt 
which was the Jordan flask and which the Dead Sea flask ! 
You would have been amused to see me on Friday night 
at the Lilleshall school feast, surrounded by some dozen 
little girls, who were eagerly being puzzled, and in turn 
puzzling me with making words out of card letters. How 
ever, we got on famously. Much love to all, specially to 
yourself for to-morrow, and, I hope, many happy to-morrows. 
Ever your affectionate son, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


January $th, 1853. 

My dear Mr. Maurice Let me at once thank you for your 
Sabbath sermons. . . . The volume was very delightful to me 
on several accounts ; on this especially, that, without masking 
or in any wise glozing over a single conviction which it was 
needful for you to utter boldly, you have avoided giving need 
less offence to many candid and reasonable but timid readers. 
You have sometimes seemed to me, in your anxiety not to 
quench the smoking flax of earnest men assailed by scepticism, 
to have been too careless of those who are similarly assailed 
by pseudo-orthodoxy. But it is not so in this little volume. 
The latter class is seldom attended to but by merely mis 
chievous teachers ; yet it is a very large and important one. 
I have been often astonished to find how honest and godly a 
spirit is hidden under a pharisaical intellect and even speech. 
Thousands, I suspect, who might easily be led into the fulness 
of truth, would be stopped at the threshold by anything which 
seemed to interfere with their devotion to their Bible or their 
Church, as the case might be. The claims of sceptics are 
beginning to be acknowledged (and at all events are sufficiently 
canted about), but it will be no less necessary to recognize the 
claims of the orthodox. . . . But to return to your book. 
. . . There is another view what some people would call 
the common-sense view which you hardly meet : . . . surely 
there are numbers in all classes, really needing the divine 


message, who would be tempted away by pleasurable excite 
ment from the most perfect and divine preacher of it. If our 
lips lost all their coldness and insincerity, there would still be 
multitudes, by no means thoroughly vicious, who would not 
listen to them. I do not say that this consideration necessarily 
vitiates your conclusion, but it ought to be remembered. . . . 
Of the perfect truth of the principles you have laid down I 
have no sort of doubt. I hope it is not wrong to rest un 
decided about their application. While on the subject I may 
as well call your attention to a suggestive note of Dorner s 
(you will find it by the word Sonntag in the index: mine 
is the second edition), which I was looking at the other day ; 
it illustrates much that you say, and connects the Sabbath 
with a thought that has often occurred to me, how important 
is the view which the conflict with gnosticism led the early 
Fathers to take of our Lord s life and ministry, as especially 
the work of One who was the Creator. By the way, I think 
you will find that the modern pharisaical view of the Sabbath 
mainly dates from Constantine s enactments on the subject. 
This ought to have some weight with religious people. 

I am not anxious to decide too hastily whether to continue 
and complete my Essay on the Apologists or not. It might 
be published in a way which would not show any defiance to 
the Examiners (let me observe in passing that, though bigotry 
may have interfered with my success, the very fragmentary and 
unfinished state in which the production was sent in is quite 
as likely to have stood in my way). And it would be affecta 
tion to say that I do not think it contains good matter, worthy 
of being published. But on the other hand, many things have 
long been leading me to feel that, unless I receive some 
clear intimation otherwise, my work must chiefly lie in Church 
History, especially in connexion with the previous and con 
temporary state of the world. So that a good deal of what I 
have now worked out might be used up years hence in other 
forms. Still I confess I have a hankering after trying to say 
something on the real nature of Apologetics and the historical 
seems the most appropriate and effectual form to use, at 
all events for me. The upshot of the matter is that I shall 
probably send or bring you my rough copy of the MS., and 

AGE 24 



ask you to look at it and give me your advice, though I can 
not promise explicitly to follow it. 

I am staying with Blunt for a few days for the baptism of 
his little girl, to whom I am godfather. He sends kind regards 
from self and wife to you and Mrs. Maurice. . . . All manner 
of best New Year s wishes to yourself, Mrs. Maurice, and the 
boys (who, I hope, have not quite forgotten me). Ever yours 
affectionately, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

What a pleasure to see a Government expressly repudiating 
any interest or party ! 



UMBERSLADE, January ztyh, 1853. 

A great deal of time will necessarily be wasted here, 
but I shall never lack something to do, having brought with me 
my botanical books, Origen against Celsus, Tertullian s Apology, 
Dorner on the Person of Christ, Tauler s Sermons, a book of 
Erskine s, Thiersch s Church History, Gk. Test, (and have 
written for De Wette s Commentary), Palgrave s History of 
Normandy, Niebuhr s Lectures on Ancient History, etc. 


UMBERSLADE, February \^th, 1853. 

. . . The failure with Hare * and Maurice s strong request 
(for such it is) not to leave Cambridge form, I think, a very 
decided call to me to give up the curacy idea altogether 
for the present, and to look resolutely at Cambridge as my 
sphere of work for some time to come. Perhaps I ought 
to add my Fellowship (as Maurice does) as a third call ; 
but 1 don t feel that so strongly as he does. So heigho ! my 
doom is lectures and chapels and gyps, and for my new 
master s gown to get rusty-fusty by brushing against dons at 
the high table, instead of being scraped by rickety pulpits 
in the effort to speak the words of life to men, women, and 

1 i.e. to obtain a curacy at Hurstmonceux. 


children. Well ! that too has its blessings and advantages, 
especially perhaps for me, though I am more impatient of it 
than most would be. 

Macmillan wants to know whether you have heard anything 
from Bunsen about the MS. of Muratori s fragment on the 
Canon ; but I told him the Chevalier had not been at Lilies- 
hall for ages. 

. . . Bunsen wrote very kindly to send me an extract from 
a MS. of his father about the Star of the Messiah, which 
he had mentioned in his last sermon and I had catechised 
him about ; and also to comment on my message about 
Lachmann. My answer was a long and, I fear, not very 
temperate onslaught on the last-named personage. 


BIRMINGHAM, February zoth, 1853. 

My dear Ellerton Our letters have somehow become 
rather angelic in their frequency of late, so I will not delay 
longer to give you some account of this place and the rather 
peculiar life here. . . . 

Maurice is going to preach sermons and make a book 1 on 
Unitarianism, from money left him some time ago by a lady. 
And he is hard at work on his Warburtonians and History of 
Philosophy. I have seen two or three sheets of the latter, and 
much of the former. In the latter he describes many of the 
Fathers always well but still quite imperfectly. I feel more 
and more that he is right in calling his books collections of 
hints. But they seem to me every day more pregnant, even 
where one-sided. 


UMBERSLADE, March 6th, 1853. 

... I have only looked at Visiting my Relations enough 
to make me wish to read it, without caring much about it. I 

1 See the advertisement to Maurice s Theological Essays, dated May 24, 

AGE 24 



have a dreadful suspicion from your words that you have been 
misled, like many others, by type, etc., into ascribing it to 
Helps ; but any one page ought to undeceive you. It is by an 
old lady who lives at Newmarket. I have just read Esmond^ 
which you certainly should get hold of as soon as possible ; 
it is a right wise and noble book, though not one in a 
thousand will appreciate it. I cannot forbear sending you a 
bit which I copied, as strangely echoing what I have so often 
felt and uttered to you. Please send it back. It reads 
artificial on paper, but it is true. I hope you noticed a 
review in the Guardian (last but three) of the Heir of 
Reddyffe. The extract given, a scene in Switzerland, makes me 
long to read the book. 


My dear Bradshaw I have been intending to write to you 
nearly every day for the last two months ; but, as you know 
something of the multitude of my intentions, and the paucity 
of the accomplishments thereof, you will not be surprized that 
I have not written. Gorham or Scott will doubtless have told 
you how it is that I have been absent from Cambridge ; so I 
will not repeat, but only add that I am getting on satisfactorily 
but slowly. . . . But I am far from dull here. I have many 
more books with me than I can possibly read, and really do 
not find time to look at them much. Going through the text 
of St. Paul s Epistles and dabbling in Oriental alphabets are 
almost my only work. Baths and the disciplinal exercise 
before and after baths take up much of the day ; and so do 
billiards, battledore, and (in the evening) cards. We have 
also abundance of music of all kinds, as one of the patients is 
Miss Stevens, the great singer, who is an exceedingly good 
performer, and is never tired of playing or of helping others to 
sing. So that we often get up something like quartetts and 
choruses, and have learnt a good part of the Elijah after a 

You and Gorham (but especially Gorham) are never 


sufficiently to be anathematized for allowing our Cambridge 
music 1 to drop in that disgraceful manner. I cannot 
imagine what spirit of laziness and discord can have possessed 

I did the pilgrimage to Stratford-on-Avon, but felt sadly 
unpoetic. However, it was a real pleasure to see Shakspere s 
tomb with one s own eyes, and though I wrote no verses 
about it, I trust I did at least as much homage as those who 
do. ... I forgot to mention that Anglo-Saxon is one of my 
intentions, and I expect every day the requisite books from 
Cambridge. I wish you would learn it too : every educated 
Englishman ought to know it. If you see Ellerton (supposing 
him to be alive, of which I have my doubts), please give him 
a dig in the ribs, and let it be a severe one ; his own con 
science will tell him the why. Write soon, like a good fellow, 
such as is not your affectionate friend, 



. . . Hydropathy has done me some good, but not much, 
and I am impatient to get to Cambridge from the expense 
and idleness of this place. I have not seen anybody that 
I know except Westcott, whom, being with his wife at his 
father s at Moseley, close to Birmingham, a fortnight ago, I 
visited for a few hours. One result of our talk I may as well 
tell you. He and I are going to edit a Greek text of the N. T. 
some two or three years hence, if possible. Lachmann and 
Tischendorf will supply rich materials, but not nearly enough ; 
and we hope to do a good deal with the Oriental versions. 
Our object is to supply clergymen generally, schools, etc., with 
a portable Gk. Test., which shall not be disfigured with 
Byzantine corruptions. But we may find the work too irk 

1 i.e. the Choral Club. 



teuMBERSLADE, April l^tk, 1853. 
. We have been having abundance of pleasant music 
Miss Stevens brought over the other day from Bir- 
___im Rossini s * Stabat Mater, which I was very anxious 
to hear, being puzzled with the strong opinions expressed both 
for and against it. However, if I am right, the discrepance 
is easily explained : it seems to me to have a great deal of very 
fine music in it, but to be utterly unspiritual, and, as applied 

>to these words, absolutely blasphemous. This morning we 
sang one of the least inappropriate movements, the In- 
flammatus, with the chorus In die juditii, immediately after 
having gone through the Mount of Olives, and then we sang 
the Kyrie of Mozart s Twelfth Mass, and you may imagine 
the dreadful earthiness it had between two such neighbours. 


CAMBRIDGE, May 2$th, 1853. 

. . . The journey to Cambridge would not have been 
unpleasant but for two malefactors who smoked weeds (in the 
strictest sense of the word) of genuine home growth. And 
when it got cold, I dared not shut the window for fear of being 
poisoned. Ultimately I entered Trinity as it was striking 
twelve, after a more delightful day than I have had for months, 
or am likely to have for many more. I lighted my fire, made 
tea, got in my easy-chair, and, as I looked at the backs of the 
critical books on my table, came with bitter decision to a 
conclusion the very opposite of that which was the Professor s 
under similar circumstances. So you will see there is hope 
for me yet. I sought in vain for a book that would not be 
discordant : the Psalms would hardly do with one s tea, and 
ultimately I had recourse to In Memoriam as the best food 
I could find ; but still one wanted some moral marmalade to 
that bread of tears and water of affliction. 



CAMBRIDGE, June $tk, 1853. 

... I am very glad you like Bradshaw ; I have certainly 
taken a great fancy to him ; it is always a pleasure to be with him. 

Perhaps I may go on with the Hulsean Essay indeed, last 
night I analyzed a little Origen for it but it is doubtful, as 
the labor will be very great, and perhaps not commensurate 
with the very moderate worth. But at times I feel vehement 
bursts of anxiety to finish it, and say my say on divers points 
of history and of Christian Evidences, which I should shrink 
from putting in any other form. 

Hare has just been made a royal preacher. I hear his 
reception the other day at Hurstmonceux on his return with 
restored health was most delightful. By the way, while I 
think of it, I should mention that, as a compliment, Peterbro 
Deanery was offered to old Sedgwick, who refused it by 
return of post. 

About Mat. Arnold ... I know few finer and more ex 
quisite things in modern objective (i.e. quasi-objective) poetry 
than Callicles final song and some other parts of Empedocles. 
Tristram and Iseult I liked less at first ; but I read it to the 
three Blunts, who have all excellent taste, and they were 
enchanted with it, and I have come pretty nearly to their 
view of it. I know nothing of Preciosa. Margaret Fuller 
is a wonderful book too much so to talk of now ; it has, 
I hope, made me more charitable to America, and more 
thankful for elements of English life which we take as a matter 
of course like daily bread : it is as sad a search for freedom 
without obedience as the world has often seen. 


CAMBRIDGE, June \^th, 1853. 

. . . Cambridge is always very enjoyable at this time of 
the year ; and I have been wishing that you could see it now, 
to take away the hard and frosty recollections of it which you 
seem to have carried away from your last visit. One is never 

AGK 25 



tired of looking up or down the narrow aisle of tall limes at 
the back of Trinity, with the blue sky quivering through the 
delicate green young leaves at the top of the long, long arch, 
and the huge, cumbrous old horse-chestnuts with their white 
spikes (men in surplices climbing up green mountains, as 
somebody called them) seen between the trunks of the avenue. 
One of the appurtenances of a Fellowship is a key of the 
Roundabout or Fellows garden of Trinity, a badly kept 
place, consisting of a great roundish meadow with a gravel 
walk bordered with shrubs round it, and here and there 
straggling beds of flowers ; it is a most delightful place for an 
after-dinner stroll in this colourless region, and we have been 
revelling in its lilacs, laburnums, and barberries, but they are 
fading now. Three or four weeks ago we had plenty of 
Daphne Cneorum, just as it used to be in the green garden at 
Leopardstown. By the way, I do not think I have told you 
of another privilege I now possess, which will make you laugh : 
I can walk across the turf about the College without being 
fined half-a-crown ! The College is nearly empty. I have 
no one on my staircase, and to-day we were but four at table 
in Hall. Fortunately one of these is Sedgwick, who has but 
lately been released from his duties at Norwich, and he keeps 
everybody alive. 


CAMBRIDGE, June iqth, 1853. 

. . Soon after I left you in London, I went with Babington 
to pay W. H. Stokes (of Caius) a visit in his newly-occupied 
living at Denver, just out of the fens twelve miles below Ely. 
You know he was one of our Ray fellows. We walked and 
drove to divers places in the neighbourhood, botanizing, anti- 
quarianizing, ecclesiologizing, etc. We were not far from the 
scene of the great floods of the winter (indeed there was a 
tolerable lake still), and the sight of what had been rich corn 
fields utterly desolate and bedraggled with mud and rubbish, 
waste and useless for many months to come, made a stronger 
impression than I could at all have anticipated. 

This has been the week of the Apostles" dinner. On 


Tuesday I went to London, and to a concert of the Musical 
Union at Willis Rooms, which was a treat indeed. The per 
formers were a M. Hiller, pianoforte ; Vieuxtemps and Goffrie, 
violins ; Blagrove, viola ; and Piatti, violoncello. We had first 
an exquisite stringed quartet of Haydn s, full of sportive fairy 
music ; but then came such a trio of Beethoven s (piano, 
violin, and violoncello). At the third or fourth bar one was 
shivering through and through, yet that was nothing to what 
came soon after. The second movement did indeed lift one 
up, I don t know where. There were the vast disadvantages of 
being alone without a soul that I knew in the room, of the 
room itself being much too large for so small a body of sound 
so subtly modulated, of my being rather far off, and of my 
unfamiliarity with the music ; but still there was a taste of 
heaven about it, and one thought that after all, in moderation, 
the angels with their harps may not be such a bore as they 
sometimes appear, at least, if they play Beethoven. Our third 
piece was a very fine quartet of Mendelssohn s, which it was 
hard to do justice to after its predecessor. 

Next morning I got to early service (eight) at Lincoln s Inn, 
waited for Maurice, and went to breakfast with him. He was 
in excellent spirits, and I had a very delightful talk on many 
subjects, which I prolonged by walking with him to Somerset 
House. ... At last we got to dinner (the Apostles ), but 
it was rather a dull affair, our numbers being small, and our 
best members wanting. Maurice had to preach at the open 
ing of the church of some High Church friend ; Thompson 
was at Ely, being made a canon of (i.e. being bored, as 
somebody explained it) ; Stephen was ill ; Monckton Milnes 
was at the Queen s state ball ; and Trench, Alford, Blakesley, 
and others were away on different accounts. 

Next morning I was up rather late, but was at the Exhibi 
tion soon after twelve by appointment to meet Ellerton, who 
came up for the day. We went carefully over all the chief 
rooms of the Exhibition, and saw it very well. I got to under 
stand and appreciate the Pre-Raphaelite pictures much better 
than on the former day, particularly the Proscribed Royalist 
and Claudio and Isabella, 1 tho I still object to the direc- 
1 By Holman Hunt. 

AGE 25 



tion of Isabella s eyes. Montague s * Children, they have 
nailed Him to a Cross, also improved much on acquaintance. 
Ellerton and I, after leaving the Exhibition, went into the 
Green Park, and sat and talked there till it was time for him 
to go, and then took a boat for London Bridge. I never 
was at that London Bridge Station before, and I can t say 
what a strange thrill it gave me (and I daresay will, more 
or less, all my life) to see it and be in it. There is interest 
enough in its being the gate from this dear confined island to 
the mysterious world beyond seas ; but it was naturally linked 
in my mind with several departures for the Continent, in which 
I have had a deep interest. . . . Next morning at eight I re 
turned hither. And now you have a full account of all my 
doings, the rest of the time since I saw you having been spent 
in doing nothing, except burrowing in the libraries among MSS. 
The other day, in one of them, I came upon a monkish 
couplet, which gave me a rough, savage sensation of pleasure 
by stirring up a concentration of all one s antipathies into action 
against itself. Here it is for your benefit 

Femina corpus^ opes, animani^ vini^ himina, vocetn 
Polluit, anni/iilat, necat, eripit^ orbat, acerbat. 

Could more atrocities be condensed into two lines ? 

By degrees I am getting through my arrears of novels. I 
have finished Villette and Ruth^ both of which are most excel 
lent, and make one proud of one s country. I know scarcely 
any book equal to Ruth in holiness and tenderness. Truly, 
we parsons have no monopoly of preaching the Gospel nowa 
days. Cyrilla I have heard abused on good authority, but 
the four chapters which I have hitherto read are delightful, 
and quite equal to The Initials}- 


CAMBRIDGE, July 6tA, 1853. 

... I doubt whether I have mentioned an employment which 
I have undertaken, which is, along with two or three others - 

1 By Baroness Tautphoeus. 
2 The most active of these was C. B. Scott. 


(who happen to be friends of my own), to examine minutely 
and form a catalogue raisonnee of the theological Manuscripts 
in the University Library. At first I began en amateur, but 
am now formally placed on the committee by the Pitt Press 
Syndicate, with power of taking out MSS. It is slow and 
laborious work, but often very interesting; and one picks up 
indirectly a good deal of knowledge which may be of great use 
hereafter, and would be almost impossible to acquire in any 
other way. 


CAMBRIDGE, // 1 4^, \ g 
BRIGHTON, July 2$rd, ) 5 -> 

. . . Degree time was very pleasant from the number of 
old faces and hands, though the last gathering of an University 
year for the lifetimes of most of its members is rather a 
gloomy occasion. Unluckily - - asked me to look over the 
proofs of his Latin Essay, which he had to recite in the Senate 
House ; and, as it abounded in atrocious blunders from first 
to last, it took me from twenty to thirty hours. - came 

to my rooms several times and talked very pleasantly, and still 
more so when we strolled out in the warm evening and wound 
in and out among the flowers and green turf of the Trinity 
Roundabout. He seemed overflowing with quiet happiness, 
and it did one good to see him. 

Three or four weeks ago I, after divers refusals, accepted an 
invitation from Jessopp 1 to visit him and his wife at Papworth 
St. Agnes, not far from St. Ives, from Saturday to Monday. I 
went, and stayed till Tuesday, and have not often had three 
pleasanter days. On the Tuesday they drove me over to 
Cambridge, as Jessopp wished to join me a little in collating 
MS. in our Library; so we spent the afternoon collating, 
while Mrs. Jessopp looked out references in St. Gregory in 
another part of the Library, and then we went to dinner in 
my rooms ; but lo and behold ! my bedmaker was not aware 
of my arrival, and had not appeared ; so there was the dinner 
waiting and no preparation made for it ! Luckily we found in 

1 Now the Rev. Augustus Jessopp, D.D. 

AGE 25 



my cupboard a tablecloth, some bread, four knives, and some 
teaspoons. So I lighted a fire to warm the plates, and then 
rushed off to the nearest friend s rooms in quest of forks, 

spoons, and, above all, salt. I arrived first at s, and burst 

in upon him as he was sitting over his wine with a prim 
Oxford Fellow of Magdalen. However, there was no help for 
it but to explain my strange mission, and I bore off in triumph 
the needful plate and salt wrapped up in scribbling paper. At 
length we got to dinner ; it was a scrambling affair, a kind of 
domestic picnic, but far from unpleasant, as both my guests 
entered fully into the fun of the thing, and made themselves 
useful in divers ways. 

A large proportion of our year seemed to have taken unto 
themselves wives and babies, though they seemed shy of bring 
ing them up for the year to see. So that I felt more than 
ever like what Sedgwick gave the other day as the definition 
of a Fellow to a French guest of his, who had supposed us 
to be eleves in fact, a kind of professeursj namely, a 
Protestant monk, a frere, and no more. However, there 
was hope in our good vice-master s further explanation that 
we differed from French monks in being allowed to marry. 
"What! can your Feloes marry?" "Oh yes! exceedingly," 
shouted old Sedgwick, in great excitement, adding soon after 
with equal energy, " A man s thought a most wretched fellow, 
if he doesn t marry when he leaves us ! " You may imagine 
my amusement at the whole scene ; but the dear old * Feloe 
evidently spoke feelingly. 

I got a line from Maurice saying that he had just been at 
Hurstmonceux, where Hare asked him if he could recommend 
a. curate. Maurice mentioned me "as at least possible," and 
Hare "was evidently much pleased," and "begged him to 
make me the offer," " which," says Maurice, " I do accordingly." 
" If," he proceeds, " you have made up your mind to stay at 
Cambridge, I shall think you are doing very right ; but, if you 
wish for a curacy, Hurstmonceux has certainly many recom 
mendations," etc. etc. I wrote by return of post how much I 
was tempted by the offer, but gave the substance of my letter 

to you ; but said 



I still thought it my duty to stay at 
I had some decided call to leave it, 



and I could not consider such an offer as such, however 

I had to lionise and help a pleasant young German, Dr. 
Osiander, who came accredited by Maurice and Bunsen, being 
sent over by the German Orientalists to see the contents of the 
Arabic MSS. in England. I took him to Power, and got him 
access to the valuable Arabic MSS. of the University Library, 
where he found much of interest, and talked of coming 

I am glad you enjoy Ruth. I understand, and perhaps 
partly agree with, your objection, which I have heard before. 
The best answer to it, I think, is, that Mrs. Gaskell does not 
mean to say that Ruth did not know she was sinning. You 
must remember that, when she entered the carriage, she thought 
she was going to be driven home^ and Mrs. Gaskell s delicacy 
has, perhaps not wisely, allowed us to see nothing whatever of 
her till two months later, in Wales. That Ruth s conscience 
had not been silent is, I think, clearly implied in many of 
her subsequent thoughts and sayings. My own feeling is that 
no sin can be so great but that circumstances may reduce the 
guilt to a very small remnant, and no sin so small that any 
amount of circumstances can altogether take away its guilt. 
Now Mrs. Gaskell s object primarily was to show how the fall 
of a creature like Ruth could take place easily and naturally 
without any great previous moral depravation, and how many 
natural and harmless circumstances tend in such cases to 
diminish the guilt. Perhaps it is better as it is \ but my com 
plaint would rather be that she has not put her case strongly 
enough. That any so tempted should ever keep from falling 
is to me one of the most stupendous of miracles : I wonder 
how many of us men could so stand. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, September i^th, 1853. 

... I hope that meanwhile you have been getting on 
swimmingly with the Hulsean. I should have been glad to 
have been of any service to you, but really I have known but 

AGE 25 



little (and fear I have mostly forgotten that) beyond the 
chronology of some four or five select Bishops of Rome, or 
rather some points in their chronology, for I have never 
worked even that out to completion. With the first two or 
three Bishops of Rome (and their relation to St. Peter) and 
the history of the other sees I have hardly meddled at all, 
though hoping to study them well some day or other. But 
the subject is far more extensive than it looks at first sight. 
The best book, I imagine, is Rothe s Anfdnge der Christlichen 
Kirche, which has not been translated ; and Ritschl and 
Bunsen (not Hippolytus, but Ignatius von Antiochien und seine 
Zeit\ not to mention others, should be consulted, though of 
course not to the exclusion of others, such as Pearson, Dodwell, 
Pagi, etc. But, after all, the whole labour may be superfluous, 
for the last book that I read before leaving Cambridge, Mr. 
Shepherd s so-called History of Rome (which seems to be 
written to show that it has no history, as Daille wrote On the 
Use of the Fathers, to show that they were of no use), left two 
serious doubts sticking in my mind (i) whether Rome ever 
existed, and (2) whether there were ever any Bishops of 
Rome. The second doubt must be left for future considera 
tion ; the first I am inclined to embrace at once, as it would 
save one a world of troubles and annoyances of all kinds, and 
Dr. Cumming s occupation would at once be gone. However, 
I suppose the vested interests will prevent that desirable 
consummation from being accepted as credible. 


CAMBRIDGE, October 24^, 1853. 

... I spent yesterday at Harrow with my friend Westcott, 
and came back this afternoon, or rather evening, after a very 
pleasant visit. I was very glad of the opportunity of seeing 
Harrow, the new Rugby. No one can doubt its excellencies, 
but it rather disappointed me, and is certainly in some respects 
unequal to Rugby. In the morning Rendall 1 preached a 
most excellent sermon in the School Chapel. ... He came 

1 The Rev. F. Rendall, Hort s first classical tutor at Cambridge. 


in in the evening to see me, and talked with much kindness 
and interest. In the afternoon Dr. Vaughan preached, and 
pleased me much. After chapel we walked up to see the 
noble church, which, as I daresay you know, is beautifully 
placed on the top of a hill rising abruptly on all sides but 
one from the great plain of London, and the view is so exten 
sive that I could see the Crystal Palace at Sydenham across 
London on one side, and Windsor Castle on the other, though 
it was not a very clear day. Between services we took a stroll 
with Bradby, 1 an old Rugby friend of mine, a late scholar of 
Balliol, who has likewise become a master of Harrow; and 
talking to him at Harrow seemed really to recall Rugby days. 


CAMBRIDGE, October 31 st, 1853. 

... I must write you a line to tell you, if you do not know 
it already, that Maurice was expelled from King s College by 
a vote of the Council on Thursday last. They met a fortnight 
earlier, when the correspondence between him and Jelf, which 
has been going on all the Long, was placed printed in the 
hands of the members to digest. Gladstone and Anderson, 
who were unavoidably absent Thursday last, wrote to the 
Council earnestly pressing them to delay, but in vain : Jelf 
would not allow him even to lecture on English literature the 
next day. He was condemned exclusively on the last Essay, 
Jelf s charges being (i) that he " threw a cloudiness about the 
meaning of the word eternal "; and (2) that he seemed to 
tend towards the belief that the wicked might perhaps find 
mercy at last, or words to that effect. All the correspondence 
is printed, but I have seen only Maurice s last letter to Jelf; 
the whole will be published in a few days. That letter is 
crushing. I fear he loses ^500 a year at one swoop, which 
he can ill afford, but it remains to be seen whether any one 
will have the courage to give him a living or institute him. 
He has no idea whether the Bishop of London will take any 
further step against him in propria persona. My own feeling 

1 The late Rev. E. H. Bradby, D.D. 


is that a considerable number of High Churchmen will support 
him. On the first head he only repeats Plato s doctrine, which 
Augustine lays down in the most emphatic terms in the Con 
fessions ; on the second he goes no further than is implied 
in prayers for the dead. 


CAMBRIDGE, November ^th, 1853. 

. . . First of all I must give you some details of the sad 
event which is haunting my mind incessantly. All the Long 
Maurice and Jelf have been having a correspondence about 
the former s Essay on Eternal Life and Death. When it had 
reached a certain point, crowned with Jelf s final charge, they 
agreed that the whole should be printed, as containing all that 
Jelf had to say against him. Maurice in like manner was to 
write and print a final answer. These two documents were 
placed in the hands of the King s College Council, at their 
first meeting for the term yesterday three weeks, at which 
meeting great altercation is said to have passed between his 
friends and opponents. They took a fortnight to read and 
digest, and yesterday week met again. Having heard that 
they considered his tone to Jelf disrespectful, he appeared 
before the meeting to say that in this matter he stood to 
Jelf not in the relation of inferior to superior, but of ac 
cused to accuser. Jelf made some euphuistic reply, and 
Maurice retired. The result of the meeting was a vote for 
Maurice s expulsion from both his Professorships. What the 
majority was is not known. A statement in the papers that 
Gladstone was the only dissentient is pure fiction, proceeding 
from a violent letter in the Morning Herald, in which this 
statement was made rather doubtfully, as a belief. Both 
Gladstone and James Anderson were unable to be present, 
and both wrote strong letters, intended to be shown to the 
Council, most strongly protesting against unseemly haste in so 
solemn a matter, and urging them on no account to come to 
a vote that afternoon ; but their exhortations were vain. On 
the receipt of the minutes of the Council, Maurice wrote to 


the secretary to ask whether the Council wished him to continue 
at his post till a successor should be appointed ; Jelf sent back 
a message that he would never be allowed to deliver another 
lecture in King s College. And so the matter stands. Jelf s 
publication, i.e. the correspondence with later footnotes, if 
not out already in London, will probably be out to-morrow ; 
Maurice s publication, i.e. his final letter to Jelf, also with a 
few notes and an explanatory preface, will be out soon after. 
You shall have them as soon as they are both out. I have 
seen the original of the latter, which is a masterpiece of calm, 
clear, controversial writing ; it will be an historical document to 
future Church historians. ... I hear that Maurice included in 
his first letter to Jelf (which is, of course, printed) a verbatim 
copy of the greater part of his letter 1 to me. Indeed, his 
whole defence seems to have been an expansion of that letter, 
with an indignant repudiation of Universalism, although that 
is just the charge for which most people suppose he has been 
condemned. I ought to add that Jelf (and, I believe, the 
Council) urged Maurice to resign quietly, but he positively 
refused, denying that a professor at King s College could be 
subjected to any test of orthodoxy beyond the Creeds, Prayer- 
book, and Articles, all of which he cheerfully accepted. 
Maurice desires every one to know, therefore, that it was an 
expulsion. The first public intimation of the fact was a 
paragraph in the Morning Herald, stating that unbounded 
indignation at the dismissal prevailed in King s College and 
elsewhere. Next day appeared the letter I have mentioned, 
protesting against the paragraph. There was also a pretty 
good article in the Chronicle on Maurice s behalf, but written in 
ignorance that the vote was already past. . . . The Record you 
will doubtless have seen, as also its extracts from the Morning 
Advertiser. I send you the Guardian^ which writes under a 
misapprehension of facts, but is very kind and generous; 
pray note also O. P. s extravagant but noble letter. The 
English Churchman^ misapprehending the real charge, expresses 
kind regret at a result which they approve, but awaits the 
publication of documents. These are all the public notices I 
know of. A letter from Sir J. Stephen to Macmillan says it 
1 See pp. 116-123. 

AGE 25 


has caused no small stir in London. Here Hardwick and 
Harvey Goodwin seem to give a kind of neutral adhesion to 
Maurice. My own feeling is that a large proportion of High 
Churchmen will stand by him : I am sure they will mainly 
agree with him. If they speak out, an immense good will 
indeed arise out of this present evil, and we shall have one 
more proof how the antient Catholic faith is the only one 
really capable of meeting the wants of the age. Meanwhile it 
is a time of great anxiety for us all. The feeling seems general, 
that the matter will have to be tried before the Bishop of 
London as Bishop of London, and ultimately before the higher 
courts, and God only knows what the end will be. ... General 
indifference seems to prevail here, though divers individuals are 
deeply interested. Plans of testimonials, etc., have been talked 
of, but will, I hope and think, come to nothing : unless they 
carried the weight of names of known and established ortho 
doxy, they would be worse than useless; but I think every 
one who is grateful to Maurice ought to send him a line of 
sympathy privately. Kingsbury, whom I regard as by far 
Maurice s ablest and most intelligent theological disciple, has, 
I rejoice to say, written most warmly and energetically. 

Now for your letters. I rejoice to hear of the pony : it 
will be the thing of things for you. Something physical of 
the kind is excellent to let off one s steam. Football is good, 
and fighting, and dancing (such as, I hope, the Church of the 
Future will see and foster) ; but under existing circumstances 
a gallop across country must be not a bad substitute, and, in 
spite of my own incapacity, I quite enter into Kingsley s 
praise of the moral worth of hunting. 

I am bound to say that I never met with a purer and 
holier mind than Novalis . He is always fundamentally 
reverent in treating of mysteries, but he is fond of mysteries, 
and of comparing one with another, and that the English 
mind habitually is not. He is certainly no atheist, but a warm 
Lutheran, with perhaps a faint Romeward hankering; but, 
like every great mystic, has a considerable infusion of what, if 
carried out, would amount to Pantheism ; and being a Ger 
man, a philosopher, and a poet, he is especially open to that 


... I suspect you are too anxious to find plain enough 
texts. I don t know any really plain subjects in the Bible : the 
plainness should lie in the treatment. I can t now discuss 
Maurice s doctrine about the Resurrection, etc. Much seems 
to me good. . . . Carlyle s Cromwell is certainly not such 
pleasant reading as his Sterling, but is still very valuable and 
interesting j remember that it is not a biography but a series 
of documents, with elucidations. My Novel I have not yet 

I have undertaken to edit poor Henry Mackenzie s Hul- 
sean Essay (who died at last some three weeks ago) for his 
mother, and she wants it to be out by Christmas, if possible. 
I went down and spent a Sunday with Westcott at Harrow 
very pleasantly, and saw divers old friends. We came to 
a distinct and positive understanding about our Gk. Test, 
and the details thereof. We still do not wish it to be talked 
about, but are going to work at once, and hope we may 
perhaps have it out in little more than a year. This, of course, 
gives me good employment. I have likewise University MSS. 
work, Trinity Library MS. work, ordination work, Apologists 
work, and general reading, so am tolerably occupied. 

Love to your wife and to the thing with the dear little 
hands. From your ever affectionate friend, 



CAMBRIDGE, November $th, 1853. 

. . . Your query about the Moral Sciences Examinership 
I partly answered last week. It will certainly take some read 
ing, though not, I hope, an exorbitant amount, the subjects I 
shall chiefly have to look up being Political Economy and 
General Jurisprudence. But my present plan (in which I am 
much encouraged by the friends here whom I have consulted) 
is (i) not to confine myself to the special books or divisions 
embraced in the Professor s lectures, but to take my questions 
from the subjects at large, with a preference for such as bring 
out principles of general application; and (2) to try, according 

AGE 25 



to the original idea of the Tripos, to bind the five sciences 
together by asking questions which bear on the mutual con 
nexion of the sciences, and the joint application of them to 
practice in actual history. This will be an innovation upon 
the doings I cannot speak of a custom^ where there have 
been but three examinations of my two predecessors, who 
have contented themselves with cramming into one paper 
questions on the special subjects of five sciences, similar and 
supplementary to those of the Professors. But I feel sure 
that the change will be generally approved. I was somewhat 
amazed and amused two days ago to be told that I had just 
been elected a member of the Council of the Philosophical 
Society. Fortunately the inspection of papers is rather of a 
routine kind, for otherwise there would be something ludicrous 
indeed in my sitting in judgement on Augustus de Morgan s 
mathematical disquisitions, which form a large proportion of 
our papers. 


CAMBRIDGE, December nth, 1853. 

... I hope you got the pamphlets about dear Maurice s 
sad affair. It is too long to talk much about now ; but you 
will be glad to hear that at the second meeting (at which the 
vote of censure was passed) Gladstone, who moved an amend 
ment, was not the only opponent of Jelf ; indeed, at the first 
or preliminary meeting there was great fighting, but between 
whom, I have not heard. At the third meeting the Bishop of 
Lichfield and Milman formally protested against the rejection 
of Maurice s protest and appeal. Others (e.g. Judge Patteson) 
were also on his side, but how far, I know not. Edition 2nd, 
greatly altered, is just coming out ; he will publish the new 
preface and last Essay separately. The former I have 
seen, and it is a most beautiful, dignified, gentle piece of 

Last week I wrote to S. Oxon, asking his leave to be 
ordained in Lent, and I have had a very kind letter of 



HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, December 31^, 1853 ; 
January 3n/, 1854. 

. . . You will doubtless have been following with interest 
the incidents of Maurice s expulsion from King s College, 
which took place just after I left you. 

... I have been astonished at the small number of even 
thoughtful men at Cambridge who were able to recognise the 
distinction between time and eternity. The prevalent idea 
seemed to be that, right or wrong, Maurice had invented it to 
meet a particular case. No one seemed to enter into the 
impossibility of a theology, or of the existence of a spiritual 
world, without it. Thompson was the only one I met who 
knew that it was to be found in Plato. I do not know what 
you will say to an address which is being circulated ; you shall 
have a copy when I get some more ; Thompson says that Dr. 
Vaughan is going to sign it. 

What a sad loss dear old Mill s death is. I was looking at 
his hair, with less of gray in it than my own, last term, and 
thinking how long we were likely to have his services, and 
how much we should need them. 

... I believe it is since my very pleasant visit to Harrow 
that Whewell asked me to take the additional examinership of 
the Moral Science Tripos, which involves a good deal of 
reading and other trouble; but I am not sorry to have an 
opportunity of doing something to widen and deepen the 
Cambridge study of the subjects. Scott also induced me to 
take the Le Bas Examinership. . . . 

There has been however, in one way or another, quite 
enough to take up my time and prevent me from making much 
progress with the Greek New Testament. But what I have 
done has been pretty efficiently done. 

... I forgot to tell you I saw a tempting bramble on 
Harrow Hill, thought I would cut it, thought I hadn t time, 
went on, came back, caught a vehicle, got a lift, and so was 
in time. 



HARDWICK, January 2Otk, 1854. 

... I believe in writing to you last time I passed over 
your queries about my fears respecting Convocation. I have 
not time now to explain myself fully, but I must say a word 
or two. It seems to me that many who clamour for Con 
vocation speak of that as the Church s rightful government, 
and as if she had no government now. Now this seems to 
me a direct denial of the apostolical constitution and polity, 
of which Convocation forms no part. Practically our bishops 
may, through inability, cowardice, overwork, etc. etc., have 
ceased for the most part to govern ; but they are there, and 
their functions are there, and may be revived. They, and 
subordinate officers deriving authority from them, have alone 
paramount authority in the Catholic Church. The authority 
of a representative and democratic assembly, derived from the 
wills of individual members and not from Christ s ordination, 
is anarchic except so far as it is subordinate to that of the 
successors of the Apostles. Moreover, in the early Church 
synods were assembled at particular periods, whether rare or 
frequent ; they never formed a regular standing part of the 
Church s constitution. This I do not urge as a reason why 
they should not practically become such now ; there are many 
reasons why they should. I only protest against their inter 
fering with the apostolic rule. Many High Churchmen seem 
dangerously disposed to think of bishops merely as channels 
of grace, not as rulers, and to exalt the presbyterate against 
them ; and of this I have a great dread. About the mode of 
election I have not thought much ; but of course, whoever 
might be the electing power, the commission would be equally 
apostolic. Guizot however seems to have confused them 
grievously in his European Civilisation. Edward Strachey s 
book I have not yet seen, but want to see. 

I am getting on with my paper for the Moral Sciences Tripos, 
which gives me a good deal of trouble ; ordination also takes 
up my time. I am working through Pearson on the Creed for 
the first time, and am much struck with its clear, sound logic 


and the marvellous scholarship of the notes. When this is 
done (besides Bible and Gk. Test), Hooker s fifth book, 
Augustin de Doctrina Christiana, Butler s Sermons, and Burton 
and Blunt await me ; so that S. O. 1 gives his candidates quite 
enough to do. Indeed his Christmas papers included Mediaeval 
Church History, which is rather too bad. 

One book I have lately read with the most thorough delight, 
the Heir of Redclyffe ; I don t think anything has so stirred 
me since I read Yeast in Fraser. Yet the contrast is most 
singular. It is a most convincing sign of the thorough depth 
and geniality of the Catholic movement in England ; its main 
deficiency (if so it may be called) is the absolute ignoring of 
all the perplexing questions in theology and morals which are 
now being stirred, in short, it is bread without yeast. But 
the perfectly Christian and noble Theodicee, the true poetical 
justice, is beyond all praise. 

I am very anxious to hear what you think of dear Maurice s 
sad business. In spite of all the pain and anxiety of it, one 
cannot but rejoice at his giving sceptical literary men so bright 
an example of clerical honesty and boldness. I cannot talk 
much about the matter now, but you will like to hear some of 
the details. At the first meeting of the Council after the 
vacation an angry altercation took place. Copies of Jelfs and 
Maurice s pamphlets were then given or sent to all the 
members. At the next meeting (a fortnight later) some rabid 
member proposed a vote of instant expulsion ; the Bishop of 
London thought this violent, and proposed a gentler string of 
resolutions (those afterwards carried). Gladstone strongly 
dissented, urged the utter incompetence of such a tribunal 
to try so delicate and mysterious a point of theology, and 
moved an amendment that the matter be left in the Bishop of 
London s hands, to be by him referred to a committee of 
theologians nominated by him, who should report to the 
Council. The Bishop readily acceded to this amendment, 
and so did most of the Council, but Lords Howe, Harrowby, 
Cholmondeley, and Radstock made such a violent outcry, 
protesting against betraying the Gospel of Christ, that Glad 
stone in disgust withdrew his amendment, the Bishop s 
1 i.e. S. Oxon. 

AGE 25 


resolutions were carried without a division. The forbidding 
Maurice to lecture was Jelf s own act. At the next meeting 
was read Maurice s letter (which you must have seen in the 
Guardian), asking the Council to interpret their own resolutions, 
and demanding to know what formulary he had contradicted, 
and by what words of his own. This was refused ; on which 
the Bishop of Lichfield, Milman, and James Anderson handed 
in formal protests against the proceedings : Justice Patteson, 
Sir B. Brodie, and Green the surgeon (Coleridge s philosophical 
executor), if not others, also voted against the refusal. I am glad 
that Maurice has kept his temper so admirably in the preface to 
the 2nd edition. You may perhaps be interested in a passage 
of St. Clement, bearing on the question, which I found some 
weeks ago and translated literally ; so I send it, but should 
like to have it back again. You will see that the whole passage 
is in exposition of the common patristic but wrong interpreta 
tion of St. Peter s words about Christ s preaching to the spirits 
in prison, but the possibility of a locus pcenitenticz after death is 
clearly assumed throughout. You will doubtless have been 
grieving over dear old Professor Mill s sad and unexpected 
death. We never wanted him more. Of late he has been 
rather better appreciated ; but he was indeed as a prophet in 
his own country, and will be more honoured a century hence 
than now. 

I forgot to mention (what perhaps you know already) that 
a rather mild address to Maurice is being got up by Hare, 
Thompson, etc. My copy is abroad at present, but you shall 
see it when I get it back. Davies * (St. Mark s Parsonage, 
Whitechapel) receives signatures, viz. of clergymen and 


CAMBRIDGE, February \T>th, 1854. 

My dearest Mother The worry of the Moral Sciences 
Tripos is at last over, and thoroughly glad I am of it. You 
have, I hope, long ago received the paper itself, which I 
sent off on Thursday as soon as it was set. I gave them 

1 The Rev. J. Llewelyn Davies. 


five and a half hours to do it in, and when that period of hard 
work for them was over, mine began. I had undertaken to 
Whewell to have the answers all looked over and marked, and 
the marks added up by eleven on Saturday morning, and I kept 
my word ; but it was a close run, and I had to use the greatest 
exertions. . . . 

The government of the University Library has just been 
reformed, and the Vice-Chancellor has nominated me among 
the sixteen who form the first Syndicate under the new regime. 
We began our work to-day, and there seems every prospect of 
our getting on well. 


CAMBRIDGE, February 23^, 1854. 

... I am now deep in St. Augustin s De Doctrina Chris 
tiana for ordination, and am greatly delighted with its beauty 
and wisdom, on the whole. It is certainly to the Bishop s 
(or Trench s ? l ) credit to set such a book before candidates. 
By this day fortnight I shall probably be at Cuddesdon, and 
the ordination is on the following Sunday. I am sure you 
will remember me on that day. 


CUDDESDON PALACE, March ytk, 1854. 

My dearest Mother Before going to bed, I want to 
scribble you a line to say that I have arrived here safely, and 
have had one day of the examination. I reached Oxford 
yesterday a little after four alone, Gorham being detained a 
day or two in town by urgent business. As soon as I had 
tidied myself a little, I called on Finder 2 in Trinity, but he 
was already in hall. A search for John Ormerod was more 
successful, and I dined with him in Brasenose. Late in 
the evening Gorham arrived. At a quarter past nine 
this morning we started in a fly, and reached this place 

1 Examining chaplain to the Bishop of Oxford. 
2 Now the Rev. North Finder. 

AGE 25 

about ten. The servants showed us to our rooms, 
but before long we assembled (nineteen in number) in 
a sort of hall-room. The bell soon rang, and we made our 
way to the Bishop s beautiful little chapel. Presently the 
Bishop arrived with his two chaplains, Trench and Randall, 
and Pott, 1 who all took part in the service, but it was 
performed as quietly as possible. The lessons were Lev. viii. 
and Luke vi. 1-19. The second was read by the Bishop, 
who thereupon delivered a short but most beautiful and every 
way excellent address. Soon after chapel we had a short 
piece of Hooker to turn into Latin for half an hour, and then 
two hours nominally on the New Testament, but including 
various things. I began in the middle, and did not find time 
to attempt many questions, as I wrote rather carefully. Next 
followed a bread-and-cheese lunch, and then half an hour for 
air and exercise. They might have allowed us more, for after 
our return we had to kick our heels forty minutes. Then 
we had two hours for a sermon on i Cor. x. 13. Then 
chapel again (at about half-past six), the lessons being Lev. xxi. 
and i John ii., with another address from the Bishop. Then 
a few minutes to dress, followed by dinner. The Bishop 
made me sit by his side, which I found a very agreeable post. 
After sitting a short time, coffee was brought in, and then the 
Bishop rang the bell, went to the door and shook every one by 
the hand and said good-night as he went out, and we were 
dismissed to our rooms. Mine is a very excellent and com 
fortable one, with a blazing fire. And so ends a very pleasant, 
but exceedingly fatiguing day. My expectations were so high 
that it would have been strange indeed if they had been 
surpassed, but I have certainly not been disappointed. 
Good-night to you all. Ever your affectionate son, 



CUDDESDON PALACE, March nth, 1854. 

. . . The Bishop had a talk with me this morning, and 
told me that I had done very well indeed (especially in the 
1 The Vicar of Cuddesdon. 


doctrinal paper) in all but the Old Testament History, in which 
my answers, though above the average, were not so good as 
he should have expected from my other papers. These have 
been three very pleasant days. The Bishop is kindness and 
goodness itself, and his chaplains both pleasant in their several 
ways. I wish you could have heard his morning and evening 
comments on the special lessons in chapel. I do not know 
any one who would have enjoyed them more. 


OXFORD, March izth, 1854. 

My dearest Mother I am sure you will like to receive a line 
from me written before this awful day has quite gone by, although 
it be no more than a line ; and indeed I do not feel disposed 
to write more. My thoughts about the event (even if I knew 
how to express them to myself, which I do not) are as nothing 
to the event itself. All took place as could have been wished, 
and there were no unpleasant accessions to disturb and vex 
one s thoughts. The Bishop of Grahamstown preached the 
sermon very good but rather dry. He also read the Epistle. 
I had to read the Gospel, which I managed pretty well, though 
at first it was difficult to see the letters. I was not sorry at 
the Communion to receive the bread from Bishop Armstrong. 
He shook hands with me most affectionately both before and 
after the service. In the afternoon I heard the Bishop of 
Oxford preach before the University at St. Mary s ; the sermon 
was mainly practical, and addressed to the undergraduates, 
but (not to speak of its astonishing power and eloquence) it 
would not be easy to imagine a more valuable or appropriate 
conclusion to the services of the morning. At half-past six 
Bishop Armstrong was to preach again before the University, 
but we had had enough. At five we went to Christ Church 
to receive our Letters of Orders, and the Bishop of Oxford 
again twice said good-bye to me with especial cordiality. 

Gorham and I have been fortunate in getting these quarters. 
Butler 1 has been most kind and pleasant, and his wife 

1 George Butler, eldest son of the then Dean of Peterborough. 


thoroughly delightful. In the evening two or three pleasant 
friends of his came in, among them William Thomson, the 
author of the Bampton Lectures that you were reading. 

Now good- night, and God bless you all. Believe me, 
ever your affectionate son, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

The first part of the following letter gives an account 
of the ordination almost identical with that sent to 
his mother ; a third detailed account was sent to Mr. 
G. Blunt. 


CAMBRIDGE, March igth and April 2nd, 1854. 

Gorham and I made acquaintance with George 
Butler, and he very kindly offered us beds at his lodgings, 
which of course we were only too glad to accept. Pleasanter 
quarters we could not have had. I ought to have mentioned 
that, as the Bishop likes taking his candidates to different 
towns to familiarize the people with ordination, we should 
probably have gone to Reading, or some such place, had not 
the Bishop been obliged to preach before the University in 
the afternoon, and therefore tied to Oxford, which I did not 
at all regret. A little before 9 A.M. we met at the church 
warden s house. To my great delight Bishop Armstrong was 
outside, and greeted me very warmly. We (the candidates) 
then walked in procession in our surplices and hoods to St. 
Peter s Church, the oldest in Oxford ; it was dreadfully 
mauled in Perpendicular times, but retains much glorious 
Norman work, especially in the chancel. There was an air 
of life and reality about the whole church, congregation, and 
service which was very invigorating and enjoyable. The 
whole service was musical (as you will have seen by the 
Guardian), and that for the first time, I believe (in an ordina 
tion), for centuries. The rector intoned the prayers very well. 
The choir consisted of the Plainsong and another musical 
society of the University ; but the singing was tolerably 
congregational. The chanting was all Gregorian. Arm- 


strong s sermon was in many respects good. The Bishop s 
chair was then placed in the entrance of the altar rails, and 
he very solemnly and pointedly addressed the congregation as 
appointed. When we came to the Litany, he turned round 
to the East, kneeling at his chair ; and Archdeacon Clark and 
Randall (Trench was gone back to Itchenstoke) knelt at the 
rails on one side and the rector and chief curate on the other, 
and all five at once intoned or almost sung the petitions of 
the Litany, the Bishop leading magnificently, and the choir 
and congregation sang the responses. The effect was 
perfectly wonderful, far beyond what I could have supposed. 
I had to read the Gospel. A great many of the congregation 
stayed for the Communion, which was very solemn and con 
genial. ... At a little after one the great service was finished. 
Gorham and I dined quietly with the Butlers. In the 
evening W. Thomson of Queen s, James of Queen s, and Max 
Miiller (the great Sanskrit scholar) came in, and we had some 
pleasant talk. When they were gone, Gorham asked for some 
music. Mrs. Butler had there no sacred music, so called ; 
but she played Beethoven s divine second sonata, and so 
appropriately ended the day. Next morning Conington came 
to breakfast, and we had a good talk about our Journal of 
Philology. After breakfast we strolled round the Bodleian. 
I have not time to talk about Cuddesdon, the Bishop, etc., 
but can only say that I came to love and value him very 
highly indeed; it is not easy at a distance altogether to 
appreciate his temptations and his character. His arrange 
ments were most admirable ; from the time I reached 
Cuddesdon on Thursday till I said good-bye, when I went for 
my Letters of Orders at Christ s Church on Sunday afternoon, 
there was nothing whatever to meet one s eye or ear that was 
not harmonious with the occasion. Oxford too I enjoyed 
much, and wished for a longer stay. 

I am delighted to hear you speak so of the Government ; 
I doubt whether there has been such a one since Elizabeth s 
time. . . . But, in praising the Government, one must not 
forget the misdeeds of single members. ... It is very 
delightful to find England in so noble a moral position as the 
publication of the secret correspondence gives her. And 

AGE 25 



what a blessed thing this French alliance is ! what prospects 
it seems to open for the world and the Church ! Surely it 
must do more for France than centuries of entente cordiale 
and Louis Philippisme ; Frenchmen will hardly know them 
selves in the doubly new position of fighting along with 
England, and in defence of the right. But it is fearful to 
read the wild exultation with which some of the papers 
(representing but too faithfully, I fear, the minds of their 
readers) are looking forward to the war. I have a sad fore 
boding that over and above the cruel carnage which must 
inevitably touch every corner of the land we shall be visited 
by some fearful national calamity, for, alas ! we need it. 

I must not speak at any length about Maurice s business. 
I agree with you in thinking it a pity that Maurice verbally 
repudiates purgatory, but I fully and unwaveringly agree with 
him in the three cardinal points of the controversy: (i) that 
eternity is independent of duration; (2) that the power of 
repentance is not limited to this life; (3) that it is not 
revealed whether or not all will ultimately repent. The 
modern denial of the second has, I suppose, had more to do 
with the despiritualizing of theology than almost anything] 
that could be named. How contrary it is to the spirit of the 
Fathers of all schools may be seen from the notes to Pearson 
on the Descent into Hell. The cool a priori paragraph 
(beginning, "Again, as the authority"), in which he flings 
antiquity boldly aside, because it clashes with the modern 
dogma, is well worthy of remark. . . . 

Great changes are taking place here. The University 
Library is already half reformed, and the Pitt Press will soon 
have much greater changes. Unluckily they propose most 
dangerous schemes for future degrees, Theological Tripos, etc. 
etc., which we shall have to vote on next term ; and I am 
not sure that I shall not perpetrate a pamphlet. We are 
getting up a society for Church music, and hope to get 
Helmore to start it ; luckily we have Harvey Goodwin, but 
some furious High Church undergrads give much trouble. 
How pleasant to think of Lord Aberdeen offering dear old 
Blunt the Bishoprick ! 

If you come across Charles Reade s Peg Woffington, read 


it; it is obviously sprung from Thackeray s influence. 
Robert Curzon s Armenia is of course delightful, but it ought 
to be more so, and more of it. 


HARDWICK, April nth and 14^, 1854. 

. . . On Saturday the new complications of railways made 
my train so late at Shoreditch that I could not get to 

Paddington in time for the express ; but 1 of King s, 

being in the same predicament, said that he meant under the 
circumstances to go by the short train to Eton (where he is 
now a master) for the two nights, and urged me to do the 
same, offering me a bed, which I accepted, and was quite 
repaid. Eton is truly a great place, and it is no wonder that 
Eton men are so extravagantly proud of it. I am sure I 
should be the same, if I had been brought up there, though 
I would not take it in exchange for Arnold and homespun 
Rugby. On Sunday morning we went up to Windsor Castle, 
and attended service in St. George s Chapel. I was glad to 
attend service there at the beginning of the war. In the 
afternoon we had a congenial service at Eton Chapel, a noble 
building in spite of its second-rate architecture. After service 
we strolled through the beautiful bright green meadows by 
the Thames, making a circuit to the Castle, where we enjoyed 
the air and the glorious view from the terrace for some 
time. . . . 

I have not heard of the address to Maurice being yet 
presented. He is very busy at a People s College which he 
is trying to establish, and on behalf of which he is going to 
deliver public lectures in London. He also talks of answering 
Dr. Candlish s Exeter Hall attack, when it is published. 
Kingsley is publishing the lectures on Alexandrine Philosophy 
which he delivered at Edinbro ; I wonder they are not out 
yet. . . . 

It is an age since I have heard anything about your wife 
or my dear little godchild ; do tell me all about them. Can 
the latter walk, speak, or do anything human ? Even teeth 
1 Name indistinct ; probably [W.] Wayte. 

AGE 26 



would, I think, interest me. If I go on longer, you will get 
no breakfast, so good-night and God bless you all, always 
dear, but never so dear as at this old Justin Martyr sofa- 
table. 1 Ever your affectionate friend, 



HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, Easter Eve, 1854. 
... I thank you very much for your kind wishes ; I am 
sure they are true, though my time for fully realising their 
truth in practice does not seem to be yet come. You must 
not expect a long account from me now ; but I spent most 
happy days at Cuddesdon and Oxford, without anything 
discordant to violate the sacredness of the time, and 
was specially delighted with the calumniated Bishop himself. 
I must just allude to some publications which Trench 
mentioned to me then, and has since lent to me. A most 
singular movement is taking place among the German 
Reformation settled in America, the centre of the move 
ment being Mercersburg. The leading man is Dr. Nevin, 
who has written in the Mercersburg Review a series of 
passionate articles against the baptistic and { anti-creed 
theory of Christianity, pleading earnestly for continuity of 
development in Church History, and especially for an 
affectionate study of the early Church, as the only way of 
getting a standing ground for interpreting the Bible, taking 
the Apostles Creed as a guide. I can compare him to no 
one but Newman, and higher praise it would be difficult to 
give. I fear he is fast drifting Romewards. 


CAMBRIDGE, May 24^, 1854. 

. . . Thank you for John s 2 interesting dispatches, which 
I duly forwarded to Kingstown. They are a great help 

1 A table at which Hort and Mr. Blunt read Justin together, and talked, 
one summer vacation at Hardwick. 

2 His first cousin, afterwards Lieutenant -General Sir John Hort, then 
serving in the Crimea. 


towards making the newspapers intelligible. I see by yester 
day s Times that on the yth (I think) the 4th and its com 
panion regiments were moved to Bulair, as John expected, 
to take their turn at digging the entrenchments across the 
isthmus above Gallipoli. I will send my father by the next 
post a sixpenny reprint of an article in Fraser, the best 
and most authentic account that has yet been published 
of the Russian defences in the Baltic and the Russian fleet 
generally. The author is one of our attaches at St. Peters- 
burgh, driven home by the war ; he is a very sharp-eyed and 
intelligent little creature, and had access to all documents 
likely to be of much use in drawing up such an account. I 
hope my father showed you Du Hamelin s French dispatch 
about the affair at Odessa; it is the only really satisfactory 
account that I have seen. The anxious care taken by our 
fleets to spare private property is very pleasant to see at the 
beginning of the war. I have been since told (not having 
myself noticed the fact) that the gunner of the Terrible has 
been disrated for not being able to abstain from firing (and 
but too skilfully) a shell at the temptingly smooth round white 
dome of some mosque or similar building. 

The following letter is an answer to questions about 
the call to take holy orders. 


CAMBRIDGE, May $ist, 1854. 

My dear Blunt It is not very easy to answer your ques 
tion fairly without seeming to beat about the bush ; but I will 
try. I think you have rather confused the inward motion of 
the Spirit with the call, which are not exactly coincident, 
though they must be mostly considered together. 

First observe the distinct phrase used by the Church, " Do 
you trust that you are inwardly moved ? " etc. The matter is 
frankly set forth as one of faith, not of sensible consciousness. 
The motion of the Spirit is to be inferred from its effects in 

AGE 26 



and on our spirit ; any other view is likely to degrade and car 
nalize our apprehensions of spiritual operations, not exalt 
them. Now I do not think it possible for one man to lay 
down absolutely for another what inward thoughts and aspira 
tions are or are not trustworthy indices to a genuine motion of 
the Holy Ghost ; but the Church s words do themselves sug 
gest some necessary elements of them, a direct and unmixed 
(I mean, clearly realizable and distinguishable) desire to be 
specially employed in promoting God s glory and building up 
His people. You will say that this is after all the duty, not 
specially of a clergyman, but of every Christian man. I cannot 
deny it, though I do not know why I should wish to deny an 
inference to which the Church herself so plainly leads me. 
Perhaps we may find it a most pregnant and significant inti 
mation of the real nature of the priestly and the simply 
Christian life, and their relation to each other. The one 
great work of a priest is to set forth what a man is and is 
meant to be ; if we set this fundamental truth aside, we affect 
a more saintly eminence than our High Priest, the Son of 
Man. We have therefore, I quite allow, the strongest reasons 
for saying that the glory of God and the building up of his 
brethren must be the common daily work-day aim of every 
man ; but this may be done mediately or immediately. Plato 
has taught us that every craft and profession has some special 
human work (some particular way of glorifying God, as we 
should say), which must not be confused with its adjuncts and 
accessories. The healing of bodies is the work of a physician, 
so far as he is a physician, not the supporting himself, etc. 
These subsidiary results must follow, not lead or even, in some 
sense, accompany, the primary work. And so it is with the 
clergyman s work. He must have a desire to set forth the 
glory of God simply and directly, in those forms which show 
it forth most nakedly. He must not only act it out but speak 
of it, make men know it and consciously enter into it. None 
of the phenomena of life are primarily his province, but the 
glory and the love which underlie them all. He is not simply 
an officer or servant of God or workman of God, but His 
ambassador and herald to tell men about God Himself. He 
must bring distinctly before men the reality of the heaven, of 


which the earth and all that it contains is but the symbol and 
vesture. And, since all human teaching is but the purging of 
the ear to hear God s teaching, and since the whole man, and 
not certain faculties only, must enter into the divine presence, 
the sacraments must be the centre and crown (I don t mean 
central subject) of his teaching, for there the real heights and 
depths of heaven are most fully revealed, and at the same 
time the commonest acts and things of earth are most closely 
and clearly connected with the highest heaven. This is, 
briefly, my view of a clergyman s work ; and by this, I think, 
must the nature of the Spirit s inward motion be determined. 
If a man does not feel a clear paramount desire, often inter 
rupted and diluted and even counteracted, but still distinctly 
present whenever he is in his right mind, to tell men of God 
and Jesus Christ whom He has sent, in a word, to preach 
the Gospel, that is, announce the Good Tidings, I very 
much doubt whether he has a right to trust that he is in 
wardly moved by the Holy Ghost 

But this desire may be present in a greater or less degree, 
and with a greater or less commixture of other thoughts. In 
some it is so strong that any other way of accomplishing God s 
glory would be irksome to them, except as a subsidiary part of 
their lives. But in the vast majority of cases where the desire 
is really present, it is not so overwhelming but that it may be 
subordinated to others, if circumstances should be unfavour 
able. I do not think that this at all necessarily implies any 
moral declension. A man may honestly and truly desire to 
preach the Gospel, and yet he may best do God s will by 
becoming squire, attorney, or shoemaker. It is here, I think, 
that the wishes of parents or other circumstances may and 
must have their effect. Of course I cannot shrink from con 
sidering the converse case. A man s own thoughts may have 
lain in another direction, and yet subsequent external circum 
stances may, I think, justify his taking orders, but only under 
certain conditions. If he cannot find in himself any of the 
special desires which mark God s inspiration of His own 
special priests and prophets, I do not think that any outward 
circumstances can supply the place. But it must be re 
membered that circumstances do not act upon us only at one 

AGE 26 



crisis of our lives ; they belong to our childhood and youth as 
well as our manhood. And therefore it may be that the 
genuine desire has been really latent in a man s mind for 
years, hidden and kept down by one set of circumstances and 
brought to light and consciousness by the pressure of another. 
In short, when we speak of a call, we must take great care 
lest we introduce notions which may altogether distort our 
views of the Spirit and His operations. We must not think 
of ourselves as cut off from the complicated mass of events 
and influences around us, or forget that the same God, who 
holds them all in His hand, does also call us to His work, and 
inspire us with the desire and the strength to accomplish it. 
We do not honour the Spirit, but subject Him to our own 
private fancies, when we refuse to recognize a call in His 
ordering of events. I do not mean that outward events or 
things independent of ourselves entirely constitute our circum 
stances ; our own inward history, our present inclinations, 
even our felt capacities, are all, I think, part of our circum 
stances, but in these we need more care to avoid self-delusion, 
and it is not often that we are justified in consulting them 
alone. But no circumstances can justify us in following a 
profession for the work of which we have no desire. I say 
* work, because that seems the best word ; but of course I 
do not mean outward employments, except in a subordinate 
sense ; they are but the outcome and embodiment of our real 
inward work. The case is precisely analogous to that of 
ordinary morality, which requires us to be led by circum 
stances and not to yield to them. The eternal laws of 
morality are paramount over all temporal circumstances. If 
they were not, there could be no such thing as sin. Ordina 
tion is no exception to the general rule. The Church re 
quires a trust that we are inwardly moved (" Lord, we believe ! 
help Thou our unbelief ! ") by the Holy Ghost ; and that must 
be present, or else we become the slaves of circumstances and 
so fall into sin. 

I have doubts whether you will think this letter a satisfac 
tory answer to your question. But I am convinced that no 
answer can be a righteous and true one, which supplies a 
mechanical test easy of application, and exempts a man from 


the awful responsibility of deciding for himself alone before 

But there are two obvious truths, which ought to be kept 
distinctly in mind, if duty and responsibility are not to remain 
in a cold and cheerless light, which is by no means divine. 
If it is the Spirit that moves the inward man, and the Spirit 
that gives the call in whatever shape it may come, it is the 
same Spirit that clears the eye and strengthens the heart to 
decide truly whether either the motion or the call do really 
exist. And again it is the same Spirit who fills us with Him 
self at ordination. The Reformers may have been quite right 
in denying the name Sacrament to an institution belonging 
only to a part of mankind ; but it is most truly (what the 
Greeks called Sacraments) a mystery and sacramental. It is 
God that makes us priests, and not we ourselves ; and so it is 
not our own previous or succeeding desire to set forth His 
glory that enables us to do anything for Him, but only the 
anointing of His grace. Ever yours affectionately, 


.P.S. One word more on a point that I forgot. You 
seem to speak as if a love of outdoor occupations were some 
thing like a disqualification for a clergyman. I cannot allow 
this. I do not think my standard is lower than the popular 
one, but it is certainly different. With regard to such employ 
ments in themselves, the whole of society has relinquished 
them to a most injurious extent ; and I cannot see harm, 
looking especially to the future, in a clergyman s cultivating in 
due proportion that which I believe to be an integral part of a 
healthy human life ; and still more with respect to the tone 
of mind which such employments induce and from which the 
love of them springs. Nothing is more wanted for the 
regeneration of England than a vast increase of manliness, 
courage, and simplicity in English clergymen. These are 
moral qualities ; but the breezes of heaven and the use of the 
muscles have not a little effect in cultivating them. God 
knows there are temptations enough in this direction as in 
every other; but better be anything than an effeminate 

AGE 26 




CAMBRIDGE [May 29^?], 1854. 

. There is a good deal of University business going on. 
A fierce struggle took place at the beginning of this term on 
the proposal of the great Studies Syndicate (alias the XXXIX. 
Articles) to allow men after Little-go to proceed ad libitum in 
Mathematics, Classics, Morals, Physics, or Theology, and take 
a degree accordingly, a new Theological Tripos being pro 
posed at the same time. Fortunately we succeeded in throw 
ing out all except the exemption of Classics from subjection to 
Mathematics. But plans for wiser reform are already afloat, 
and I am on a new Syndicate to adjust the Little-go and Pol. 1 
The Pitt Press will likewise be revolutionised on Wednesday 
next, and will, I trust, be greatly improved. The newly- 
organised Library Syndicate has been sitting two terms. We 
have been working very hard, and have already done much 
good work. 

The last University intelligence is the Whewell Pot. Our 
artistic Master has been crowning a chimney in the Great 
Court with a row of bright blue pots surrounded by a double 
border of bright yellow fleurs-de-lys ! We are threatened with 
similar ornaments all round the College. 

We had Bishop Selwyn here yesterday, and he preached a 
grand sermon at St. Mary s. Politics would give much food 
for talk, if one had time. On the whole I am hopeful about 
the war, though not without grave misgivings. The French 
alliance is, however, a great and solid satisfaction. At home 
I never expected to see so good a government. Gladstone 
has always been a favourite of mine ; and it is now doubly 
pleasant to see how he confounds the politics and frustrates the 
knavish tricks of those rascally Derbyites. 


HOTEL DE L Ecu, GENEVA, /;/ 24/7*, 1854. 
My dearest Mother You will be thankful to hear that I 
have come thus far safe and sound without anything like a 
1 i.e. the examinations for the ordinary degree. 


mishap. . . . Soon after midnight I woke up in time to get 
some refreshment at Tonnerre, and again at 3.10 just in time 
to get out of the train at Dijon. The diligence stood ready- 
horsed a few yards off, and at the half-hour we drove away. 
It was a queer affair, not unlike an English coach but for the 
conducteur s banquette on the top. Inside there was nothing 
but a small interieure. A dim creature (whom, after some 
mutual boggling in French, of which he knew, to speak, even 
less than I did, I discovered to be a Scotchman) had the first 
place, a Frenchman the second, myself the third, and our 
plaids, hats, etc., the fourth. In passing by twilight through 
the quaint streets of Dijon, I had just such a glimpse of the 
Cathedral as to make me wish to see more. The country, as 
well as I could make out at intervals between snoozes, was 
interesting from its novelty, but not very striking. At length 
we crossed the Saone, a noble river, and entered the strongly- 
fortified town of Auxonne. An hour or so more brought us 
to Dole, a large and interesting place, at 6.25; here we 
crossed the Doubs. From this onwards the country was 
rather flat till Poligni, a most striking place, which we reached 
at 8.45. Here our passports were demanded for the first time 
since leaving Boulogne. Here the plain suddenly ceases, and 
the lower outskirts of the Jura rise abruptly, covered with 
vineyards. The vineyards themselves rather disappointed me, 
but I had formed in England no conception of the exceeding 
grace and beauty of the single vines, with their leaves and 
tendrils of tender golden green glistening in the sunlight. 
Our enjoyment of the beautiful ascent from Poligni was much 
spoiled by the intrusion of an enormous Frenchman into our 
fourth place, besides half of my place ; fortunately this nuisance 
lasted only two stages. A mile or two brought us to the top 
of the hill, and then we had a long drive on a tolerably level 
plateau of rugged ground, which was very delightful from its 
wildness, and the beautiful flowers, especially some beautiful 
Spurges and Genista. At 10.25 we crossed a rapid river in a 
gorge below us and entered Champagnole, where a petit quart 
d heure was allowed us for breakfast. We were famously 
hungry, and soon devoured no small amount of cafe au lait, 
trout fried in oil, omelette, raspberries, and wild strawberries. 


We proceeded, much revived, up and down all manner of 
beautiful vallies and ravines for many miles. The vegetation 
(which had begun to change the moment I left Boulogne) 
was very interesting to watch, but probably three-quarters of 
it was common to England, and it was a pleasure to recognize 
old friends (such as the bugloss) among the brightest flowers. 
The vallies (barring the pines) might all have occurred in 
England, and once I had just noticed a striking rezemblance 
to parts of Teesdale, when we burst on an acre of globe 
flowers, growing just as you may remember them at Caldron 
Snout, and in the following ten miles I noticed almost all the 
characteristic Teesdale rarities. ... At half- past three we 
reached the highest point of the Jura, and Mt. Blanc suddenly 
burst upon us in all his glory, his top quite clear from the thin 
clouds which hung here and there about his sides and lower 
peaks, sometimes rising into white mounds which looked like 
rival Alps, till the eye learnt to distinguish the filmy precision 
and sharp deep shadows of the genuine snows. Half a minute 
more discovered a reach of the blue Leman ; and then every 
turn, as we zigzagged rapidly down the mountain, opened out 
some new aspect of the glorious valley. We were soon at the 
bottom, and then (except for the distant Alps) the level ground, 
vegetation and all, could scarcely have been distinguished from 
that of England. Our passports were taken from us at the 
entrance of Geneva. . . . 

This morning I went to the pretty new English Church, 
and meeting there my Scotch friend of yesterday, who had 
much interested me, strolled with him up the old town (after 
getting a magnificent view of Mt. Blanc, now quite free from 
cloud), and then into the cemetery (where we wandered a 
long time among the plane-trees, looking at the epitaphs), 
to see the plain square stone with 4 J. C. which marks 
Calvin s grave. My fellow-traveller was a young Free 
Kirk minister of Glasgow, who was going to-morrow to join 
his family at Chamouni : otherwise he would gladly have 
accompanied me. We had a long and most delightful talk on 
theological matters ; and, though he was a stout disciple of 
John Knox, it was a very long time before he found out that I 
was anything else. We parted the best of friends, both, I 


hope, the better for our meeting. ... I have just been 
wandering about the fine old streets up to the curious 
cathedral, and down again along the lake, and about the 
bridges, listening to the rushing Rhone. I am well lodged 
here in a nice though small room au quatrieme (there are two 
higher stories !). My windows look out on the busy Place in 
front of the Messageries Imperiales, with the level lake and all 
its strange boats, and two streets, one containing a cluster of 
low planes. 

Last night I felt very odd here more like my first night 
at Laleham than anything else that I can remember ; but the 
situation is at least as amusing as desolate, and I have enjoyed 
myself very much. I have been singularly little tired with the 
journey, which had its pleasures in every part. 



August \-$th and i$t/i, 1854. 

My dear Ellerton Before leaving England I made no 
promises to write to you from abroad, as I foresaw there 
would be great difficulties, and I have quite enough broken 
vows to answer for already. But still I know you will be 
glad to hear from these regions. 

I left England on June 23rd, reached Dijon next day, 
travelled from thence by malle-poste to Geneva. . . . Next 
day I steamed up the lake to Vevay, slept there, took the early 
boat next morning to Lausanne, wandered about the city and 
cathedral (on which I have writ something in the incepted 
journal), and took the late boat to Geneva. I did not see the 
lake to advantage, for clouds hid the highest mountains both 
days. Thursday the 2Qth [June] I went by diligence to Sall- 
anches, and thence by char-a-banc to Chamonix. July ist I 
got a good (botanist) guide, Payot, and walked round through 
the grand gorge of the Tete Noire to Trient, and back over 
the Col de Balme (in the clouds, and therefore no view) to 
Chamonix. A Mr. Mills had taken the duty at Chamonix for 
some weeks, and a very pleasant man I found him scientific, 
to boot. He gave us good services and sermons. He had 



with him six ladies. An agreeable Oxford man, Theobald, 
was also there. On Monday we all made a famous party 
up the Flegere to see the view, especially of Mt. Blanc. In 
the evening at half-past nine Theobald, Mills, and I started 
with two guides and a lantern up the forest on the flank 
of Mt. Blanc to the little inn at Montanvert, which we 
reached at midnight ; slept there, and next day had a 
glorious expedition to the so-called Jardin, high among 
the glaciers in the hollow heart of Mt. Blanc, returning 
to Chamonix in the evening, unluckily in much rain. Next 
day I only strolled about. On the 6th I set out alone with 
Payot for the Tour of Mt. Blanc; that day we only crossed 
the Col de Vosa to Contamines. Next day it began to 
rain soon after we had started, and continued all the way 
to the first top of the Col du Bonhomme; then we had 
cloud for the next hour along the dangerous part between the 
first and second top, and then heavy rain again all the way 
down to the little hamlet of Chapin (at the extreme S.W. 
corner of Mt. Blanc), where we slept. Next day we had a 
fine day for the inexpressibly glorious views over the Col de 
la Seigne and down the Allde Blanche to Cormayeur in 
Piedmont, where we slept two nights, passing a dull Sunday. 
The loth was a hard day. We walked up the Val and over 
the Col de Ferret, and then over the Col de la Fenetre (with 
much deep wading in steeply-inclined wet snow), down some 
way and then up again to the Hospice of the Great S. Bernard, 
where we slept. The said hospice by no means pleased me. 
Next day I walked down to St. Pierre, and there took a char 
to Martigny, where I slept. Next morning (July i2th) I 
parted with Payot, and P.M. went by diligence up the rather 
monotonous valley of the Rhone to Visp, where I slept. 
Next day I had a beautiful walk up the Valley of St. Nicolas 
to Zermatt, near the Matterhorn and M. Rosa. Next day I 
went up the Untere Rothhorn (with a famous young guide, 
Kronig) for the magnificent panoramic view of the highest 
peaks, rising out of beds of glacier; and above all of that 
mountain of mountains, the wonderful pyramidal Matterhorn. 
Next day I had (with two guides, Kronig and an old hunter) a 
delightful glacier excursion (altogether \\\ hours), ending 


with a long and difficult climb, to the Stockhorn of the 
Zmutt Glacier. No tourist has made the excursion before, 
except the very very few who have crossed the dangerous 
Col d Erin, among whom is James Forbes, from whose book 
I gathered my resolution to make the attempt. The view is 
grand indeed, and, above all, it enabled me to see well the 
W. side of the Matterhorn. Sunday I passed at Zermatt. 
Monday the lyth I went with my two guides to the top of 
the Matterjoch (alias Pass of St. Theodule, alias Col du 
Mt. Cervin), with splendid glacier views at every step, then 
down across the Furgga Glacier and up the Hornli : this is a 
spur running out from the base of the Matterhorn, and is 
described (without the name) in Ruskin s splendid and no 
less faithful portrait of the Matterhorn (in Stones of Venice, 
vol. i.), which portrait it was one great object of mine to 
verify, and most strikingly true I found it in all points but 
one, and in that the error was very natural. From the Hornli 
again the view was magnificent ; but the truth is, that this 
astonishing region round Zermatt affords an inexhaustible 
supply of excursions and points of view, all first-rate. I 
meant in the two following days to have taken a new and 
much-including course over the glaciers of M. Rosa to the 
head of the valley of Saas, and so descended to Visp again. 
But on that Monday evening, having been for hours wading 
across deep pure snow under a cloudless sky, I was attacked 
(in spite of a green veil) so severely with snow-blindness that 
I dared not trust myself to the glaciers so soon again, and 
next day merely walked down to Stalden, where the vallies 
of Saas and St. Nicolas meet. Next day I walked up to the 
village of Saas, and still higher to Fee (which has, I think, 
the finest single glacier in the Alps), and down again past 
Stalden to Visp, where I again slept. Next day I dismissed 
Kronig and took a car down the Rhone valley to Leuk, and 
thence walked up to the Baths of Leuk, a most strange place. 
Next morning I walked over the Gemmi Pass (which begins, 
or almost begins, with scaling a vertical precipice of a good 
many hundreds of feet by zigzag galleries), through a most 
savage and thoroughly enjoyable region down to Kandersteg, 
whence I took car to Thun. Next morning I met James of 

Trinity with two friends (one an old Rugby contemporary of 
mine), and we went by diligence together to Berne and dined 
there, and then they went on to Basle. At dinner I was 
lucky enough to fall in with a Mr. and Mrs. Lee. They 
are very delightful people, and the next day (Sunday) at 
Berne was a very happy one. Monday I went by diligence 
back to Thun, and thence by steamer along the lake of Thun 
to Neuhaus, and thence by car to Interlachen. Here I met 
Lord Rollo. Finding that our routes would partly coincide, 
we agreed to travel together for the next day or two, and I 
enjoyed his company much. Next day (the 25th) we took a 
carriage to Lauterbrunnen, walked to the Staubbach, and 
then he rode and I walked to the top of the Wengern Alp, 
where we slept in the little inn full in front of the superb 
Jungfrau. This is a famous place for avalanches ; but we 
saw only one worth mentioning. Next morning we descended 
on the other side to Grindelwald, and thence up the Faul- 
horn, in ascending which we were overtaken by a very 
pleasant English party. Unluckily the rain came on again, 
and we saw little from the summit that evening. We slept 
in tolerable comfort up in the region of snow, and next 
morning were rewarded with as splendid a sunrise as man 
could desire, having the whole cluster of Oberland Alps 
ranged close before us, only just far enough off to enable us to 
take them all in. After coffee we had a most merry walk and 
ride all together over the great Scheideck down to Rosenlaui. 
Lord Rollo and I went up to the exceedingly pretty little 
glacier of Rosenlaui, and then down the valley past the fine 
Reichenbach Fall to Meyringen, where we slept. Next morn 
ing we separated, and I started with my Interlachen guide 
Gaultier up the beautiful valley of Hasli, stopped at Handeck 
to see the truly magnificent fall ( see is not the right word, 
for two-thirds of the fall is quite hidden by the spray), and 
then mounted the gloriously wild pass of the Grimsel, all 
bestrewed with huge sloping flakes of granite, to the new 
Hotel near the top, where we slept. Next morning we 
finished the pass, and descended the Maienwand, a steep 
mountain-slope covered with the richest alpine vegetation, to 
the foot of the big glacier of the Rhone. We had then a 


fatiguing and rather dull ascent of the Furka (relieved by 
some backward views of the Oberland), and a still duller 
descent on the other side to Hospenthal. At dinner I struck 
up an acquaintance with two Brighton men. . . . Next morning 
I read service to them and to two English ladies, and P.M. 
we walked leisurely to the Hospice at the top of the St. 
Gothard Pass, and back to Hospenthal. On Monday we set 
out walking down the wild but too much praised defile of the 
Devil s Bridge to Amsteg, and after dinner took chars to 
Altdorf, walking up in the sultry evening to see Tell s birth 
place at Biirglen. Tuesday morning was wet, but P.M. we 
walked to Fluelen, and thence took steamer to Luzern, walk 
ing in the evening to see the really great Lion (designed by 
Thorwaldsen) in honour of Louis XVI. s Swiss guards. 
Next morning, during a lull in the rain, we steamed to 
Kiissnacht, and later walked up the Righi, getting some 
tolerable partial views during the ascent, but nothing at the 
top except the singular Spectre, consisting of our figures 
thrown on a cloud encircled with a double iris. We were 
not roused by the usual horn next morning, for nothing was 
to be seen but clouds. We walked down in rain to Goldau, 
saw the strange desolation caused by the landslip of the 
Rossberg, and then took a carriage to Zurich. In the 
morning I went by steamer and diligence combined, along 
the lakes of Zurich and Wallenstadt to Ragatz, and then 
walked up to see the extraordinary limestone rift containing 
the hot spring that supplies Pfeffers Baths. I had meant to 
stay two or three days in the neighbourhood, but the badness 
of the weather and other reasons induced me to leave Ragatz 
next morning by diligence and descend the rather dull valley 
of the Rhine to Rorschach, there take steamer, and sleep at 
Constance, where I also spent the following day (Sunday). 
My six weeks for Switzerland were now finished, and I was in 
the Grand Duchy of Baden ; but next day I returned to 
Switzerland for a few hours by taking diligence to Schaff- 
hausen, and walking to see the rather poor Falls of the Rhine, 
and then returned by steamer to Constance. On Tuesday I 
steamed to Lindau (there entering Bavaria) and sailed to 
Augsburg, where I slept at the famous old hotel of the Three 




Moors. Here I met Thacker, and have been with him ever 
since. Next day we railed to Munich, and I have been 
engaged ever since in seeing its wonders, which would, alas ! 
require months to exhaust. The present Industrial Exhibi 
tion, a Crystal Palace on a small scale, is not remarkable, 
except for the superb Bohemian glass. The artistic interest 
of Munich is twofold: (i) the modern revived German art 
seen in perfection, partly in architecture (which is chiefly so- 
called Byzantine and full of instructive experiments, though 
never, I think, quite successful, and always rather mechanical), 
great learning, great skill, thorough good taste, and hardly a 
spark of life or inspiration ; and (2) the treasures of antient 
sculpture and painting in the Glyptothek and Pinacothek. 
The former, chiefly Greek, include many very exquisite things, 
the latter form an admirably-arranged exhibition of all schools 
(except the English), but especially the early German, Rubens 
per se, and early Italian. You may imagine how rich it is in 
the early German schools, when I tell you that the first day 
I got no further than Albert Diirer, who comes out in all 
his glory ; but it is vain to begin to talk about the pictures 


September loth, 1854. 

... I left Munich the evening of August i6th and 
reached Innsbruck the next afternoon by a pretty drive 
across the mountains. Next evening I took the Verona 
diligence across the Brenner Pass (which I crossed in the 
night), the fine gorge from Brixen to Botzen, the great flat 
sultry valley of the Adige from Botzen to below Trent, 
and crossed the back of Mt. Baldo in the night, reaching 
Verona early on Sunday morning. Trent, the only place 
worth mentioning on the route, is a fine city, in a dreadfully 
hot and confined situation, embowered in rank fields of white 
mulberry, vines (chiefly sprawling over divers trees), maize, 
and pumpkins altogether as unlikely a place for such a 
Council as one could easily imagine. You will observe, by 


the way, how many places connected with the Reformation I 
shall have seen this summer Geneva, Zurich, Constance, 
Augsburg, and Trent ; Prague would have been added, if I 
had gone home by E. Germany. At Verona I stayed two 
days, and saw it after a manner ; but I cannot seek lions with 
any energy when alone. It is full of beautiful canopied tombs, 
especially those of the Scaligers. On the 2 2nd (August) I 
took the train to Padua, walked up into the city and saw 
divers things, but, above all, Giotto s most exquisite frescoes 
in the Arena chapel. No panel pictures of his that I have 
seen give any idea of the sweetness and graceful dignity of 
these frescoes. The groupings are mostly conventional, but 
most of the figures themselves are very great indeed ; the 
Last Judgement is alone painful and vulgar. In the even 
ing I went on to Venice and took up my quarters at the Hotel 
de la Ville, alias the Grassi (Renaissance) Palace. . . . 

It would convey no idea to you to give a bulletin of each 
day at Venice, nor can I give you now more than very short 
results ; but I feel the mere fact of having been there to be an 
important event in my life ; there is a magic in it which I 
cannot account for. St. Mark s is most truly not barbarous, 
but it is barbaric. The effect is certainly beautiful as well as 
peculiar but it is by no means so impressive as a great Gothic 
church, though the odd power exercised by its richness and 
bizarrerie might easily be mistaken for impressiveness. In de 
tail it is always most interesting and generally most beautiful. 
The mosaics alone would take weeks to study and decipher, 
and would repay it ; but Ruskin s plates give a very fair idea of 
the exquisiteness of the Byzantine capitals and other carving. 
The Doges Palace looked lovely at first and looked more 
lovely every day ; it is, however, quite beyond description. . . . 
Of the beauty and other excellencies of the Venetian-Gothic 
and Byzantine palaces there can be no doubt ; but I have not 
been able to make up my mind whether they would be in any 
way available in England. The churches, one and all (except 
St. Mark s, Torcello, and Murano), miserably disappointed me ; 
their Gothic is generally very finicking and cramped ; literally 
half the parish churches of England would, I think, supply 
better. Their use of moulded brick and their intermixture of 

AGE 26 



colours of brick and stone are, however, well worthy of study 
and imitation. I must be brief about pictures, though (just 
now, at least) a knowledge of Venetian painting seems to me 
the greatest treasure of this summer. One result greatly sur 
prised me : Titian went down immensely in my estimation. 
Assuredly he excels most painters in manliness ; but at Venice 
he looks shallow and theatrical by the side of others, who 
more than equal him in manliness. I went to Venice with 
great misgivings as to Ruskin s exaltation of Tintoretto ; nor 
can I now agree in all his praises of particular pictures, but 
my impression is that he rather underrates the man than other 
wise. He seems to me a man of lordly, energetic, fiery spirit, 
usually disdaining to throw off a sort of dogged composure, 
revelling in all kinds of beauty and yet almost always liking to 
veil it from profane or vulgar eyes, full of subtle mysticism and 
yet often even painfully realistic, rejoicing in the earth and all 
that is upon it, but not the less inwardly religious, in the best 
sense of the word. I have always enjoyed Titian most in 
mythology (as our Ganymede and Venus and Adonis ), 
but in power and grace he is as nothing when you look at three 
Tintorets in the Doges Palace (especially a most perfect 
Venus crowning Ariadne ) and two somewhat similar ones 
(the Fall and the Death of Abel ) in the Academy. The 
Paradise of the Doges Palace must be sui generis ; there 
can be no picture like it in the world. But the precious Scuola 
S. Rocco is the place where Tintoret is most completely and 
distinctively himself. Those acres of rapid sketchy brown and 
grey tell one more of God and man (chiefly, I fancy, because 
they have entered so deeply into the Incarnation) than any 
other human utterance that I can recollect. ^Eschylus, Dante, 
and Beethoven are the illustrative names that first occur, but 
they are only illustrative. Pray read again Ruskin s excellent 
analysis in the Appendix to the Stones, vol. iii. ; it is almost 
all true, except that he has failed to see as much as he might 
have done. The last four of the N. T. series I hope I shall 
never forget, that thin, ghostly, white, lonely figure standing 
with the sad quiet face bent down as Pilate washes his hands, 
the robe unfolded to show the bleeding, sinking, exhausted 
body (Ecce Homo\ the slow tramp of the crosses up the zigzag 


of the hill, and then that unutterable Crucifixion, such a scene 
of bustle and confusion and sight-seeing, one of the side-crosses 
in the act of being hoisted up by ropes which stretch across 
one side of the picture, the other lying on the ground, and just 
receiving the thief who is being laid upon it and unbound, all 
in a crowd of soldiers, workmen, holiday parties, etc., with 
two or three quiet gazers, and the heap of mourning women 
round the foot of the one upright sullen cross, bearing the 
motionless figure with its head bent down in gloom. There 
are several other pictures of Tintoret s that I should like to 
talk about, such as the Last Judgement, another Cruci 
fixion, the Descent into Hades, etc., but I have not time. 
But Paul Veronese, whom long before I left Venice I learned 
to love most thoroughly, must have a few words. He has 
nothing of Tintoret s depth and awfulness, but his most rich 
and pure delight in beauty (especially of colour), without an 
atom of sensuality, in any sense of the word, and united 
usually to most vigorous manhood, is inexpressibly delightful. 
It was also a great pleasure to learn to know Bonifazio, 
Giorgione, etc., not to speak of the elder school, Carpaccio, 
Catena, Cima di Conegliano, etc. About John Bellini I must 
have some talk with you another time. I must, however, just 
mention (not as Venetian !) one most glorious Garofalo in the 
Academy. On my return from Venice with the Bullers I again 
saw Padua ; unluckily we were much hurried at S. Antonio s 
Church, one Gothic chapel of which was very striking. The 
Palazzo della Ragione is also worth telling about another time. 
At Verona I was compelled to stay another day, and saw San 
Zenone and the Amphitheatre very enjoyably in company with 
the Bullers. The former, as you perhaps know, is one of the 
finest and most characteristic late Lombard churches, and full 
of interest ; the cloister is very exquisite, with hardly a particle 
of ornament. On Friday I came on alone to Milan, meaning 
to start for the Simplon at midnight, but was ashamed to pass 
by everything unseen, and therefore stayed a day. Yesterday 
I saw first of all Leonardo s Last Supper. I will only say 
now that it is far greater even in its ruin and bedaubment than 
any of the engravings ; but it does not satisfy me, though it is 
impossible not to love it very dearly ; it reminds me of one of 




Manning s sermons ; one longs for a little more honest realism, 
even at the cost of some sweetness and refinement. My next 
sight was Sant Ambrogio, a most peculiar Lombard Church 
of the ninth century, as interesting as San Zenone, though 
ruder and less beautiful. Next I went to the Brera Gallery, 
where, unluckily, there was an exhibition of shiny new 
Milanese pictures hiding the old ones in a great measure. 
Moreover, we were turned out by a file of soldiers at a very 
early hour, so that about the only good picture I had any 
time for was Raffaelle s Marriage of the Virgin ; and I caught 
flying glimpses of a glorious Francia and a similar Garofalo. 
(By the way, I forgot to mention two most beautiful Peruginos 
in the Venice Manfrini Gallery, both of which I took at first 
for excellent second-rate RarTaelles.) From the Brera I went 
to the Cathedral, a very queer building, and not at all to my 
taste. Unluckily the haze spoiled the view from the highest 
point of the lantern that can be ascended. The Cathedral is 
like a monstrous chapel in the style of the Mediaeval Court 
of the Great Exhibition, stuck all over with innumerable large 
slender pinnacles, each bearing a statue, and one of them (to 
use a medical phrase) hypertrophied. 


HARDWICK, September 2$t/i, 1854. 

. . . My last was, I think, closed at Isola Bella. ... On 
the nth I took a boat to Baveno and then joined the 
Simplon diligence. At 6 [A.M.] one of the passengers and 
myself got out at Isella, the last village in Italy, and walked 
up the pass through the very fine gorge of Gondo to the 
village of Simplon, where we breakfasted. Just as we were 
setting out afresh, the diligence came up ; and it finally over 
took us about a third of the way down the pass on the Swiss 
side. At Brieg I found great difficulties (of expense, time, 
etc.) in the way of my glacier plans ; so that, to cut a long 
story short, I was obliged to abandon them, and started next 
day by diligence for Turtman. I saw at Turtman a very 
pretty fall, and made arrangements for a walk next day over 


the Loetschberg. This is a glacier pass from the Vallais into 
the Berne valleys a few miles east of that of the Gemmi, and 
some 1200 or 1400 feet higher; the walk is very long at both 
ends. I was a good deal tired when I reached Kandersteg 
late in the evening after a day of magnificent and rarely visited 
views ; however, it did me a world of good. Next day I 
thought it safer to do no more than wander about the 
Oeschinen Thai, luxuriating in the alpine air and vegetation 
and the splendid glaciers and crags around me. . . . 

On Wednesday morning I went by rail to Frankfurt, and 
thence again to Castel, the fortified suburb of Mainz across 
the Rhine. Here, after some delay, I embarked, but before 
very long we stuck in the mud. This and the necessity of 
returning some way in order to get into a deeper channel 
made us some hours late, and the lout of a captain would not 
venture as far as Cologne that night, but deposited us at 
Coblenz. I was able, however, before it got dark, to see the 
best part of the Rhine, which fell below even my very low 
expectations. At 5 A.M. we again embarked, and reached 
Cologne. I stayed there and saw the Cathedral and some of 
the churches. I hardly knew what to expect as to the quality 
of the Cathedral, but its size is not very great. As well as I 
could make out, the very oldest part must have been in the 
usual German Gothic style, to which I cannot get reconciled, 
the windows all elaborate exaggerated lancets very close 
together, and the whole stuck over with a forest of vapid 
pinnacles, the high-pitched roof being the redeeming point. 
There is, however, in the choir (the original part) much very 
beautiful work inside and some excellent windows. Being 
alone, I did not pay the extravagant sum for admission to see 
the shrine of the Three Kings ; but the Dombild, a most 
lovely specimen of early Cologne painting, delighted me 
exceedingly. It is difficult to judge properly of the nave and 
aisles, as they have at present a false roof, but the general 
effect is good, and the clerestory undeniably beautiful, though 
wanting in real freedom. The modern carving is much 
praised, but seemed to me hard and lifeless. On the whole 
it will, when finished, be a noble building, but, methinks, 
vastly below its reputation, and not to be compared to the 


better English Cathedrals for all that constitutes real beauty. 
I much doubt whether the Germans enter at all into the 
genuine Gothic spirit. . . . 

As at present advised, I hope to go up to Cambridge about 
the loth. I have two freshmen to look after, and this will 
be a very busy term with me. The Le Bas Prize, Mackenzie s 
jSssay, the Journal of Philology r , the new Degree Syndicate, 
besides the University Library and its Syndicate, and all my 
own readings and writings, are quite enough to make me wish 
to lose no time in getting to work. I have said very little 
about my tour on the whole ; and indeed I must leave that as 
it is : my own thoughts are hardly collected, and will by de 
grees find their own places. I must just, however, say that 
the politics of Italy now seem to me a more fearful problem 
than ever. Of course it is impossible to acquiesce in the 
occupation of the country by unblending foreigners; but I 
felt often tempted to think that the N. Italians are only too 
lucky and honoured in being governed by Germans. Their 
degradation did not at all seem to be that of crushed and dis 
abled men, but hopeless decrepitude of body and spirit, the 
slow result of their own fearful wickedness. Piedmont is the 
only visible door of hope, and that is unsatisfactory enough ; 
most of its reputed partiality for Protestantism means only, I 
fear, secularization, often of the most unprincipled kind. Of 
course life can return, if it ever return at all, only through the 
Church ; but that is just the most seemingly hopeless region 
of all. 

It is exceedingly annoying that I could not be at Cam 
bridge when you were there. I hope you found time to see 
Ely. The choir is now becoming so magnificent that there 
can be few greater architectural glories in England. 


CAMBRIDGE, November ift/t, 1854. 

. . . My time gets more and more occupied. Besides 
the Library Syndicate I am this term on a new and important 
Syndicate for reforming Little-go and the Pol. You may guess 


we are pretty active, as we met yesterday and meet again 
to-morrow. We have already agreed to many recommenda 
tions, but it remains to be seen whether the Senate will adopt 
them ; inter alia we propose to abolish Paley s Moral Philo 
sophy. I have also been appointed a Trinity Examiner, and 
shall have to take the Butler s Sermons and Whewell at 
Christmas, and the Gorgias, Butler s Analogy^ and Church 
History in the May. I have also (without my consent being 
asked) been made a classical examiner for the Pol (Cic. de off. 
iii. and the Hippolytus), which is a great bore, as it involves 
coming up in the middle of January. 

Then I am getting on well with Mackenzie s Essay , and 
have plenty to do for the Journal of Philology to get it out by 
the end of the month. This evening I have been correcting 
the proof of a stiff but, I suppose, valuable paper of H. 
Browne s on Clement of Alexandria s N. T. chronology, a 
slow and laborious process from the multiplicity of figures. 
I am also at work as usual at the University Library MSS., 
and occasionally do a little at Greek Testament, as a treat. I 
have just finished Heartsease with much delight ; but, with all 
its beauty and wisdom, I can hardly enjoy it so much as the 
Heir of Redclyffe. But it says much for Miss Yonge that one 
does not get sick of Violet; and Theodora is perfect, and 
Percy scarcely less. I have nibbled at a very different book, 
Ferrier s long-expected Institutes of Metaphysic^ which is read 
able and seemingly not without value ; it is at all events some 
thing to find an absolutist Scotchman, however fantastic a one. 
I should like much to know your views of Maurice s new book 
on Sacrifice. There is nothing, I believe, that positively 
repels me (as parts of the Essays did), and there is much 
(especially the last sermon) which makes him dearer than 
ever. The Working Men s College is far more hopeful ; it 
does seem as if he had at last found a thoroughly healthy 
modus of social improvement ; and is it not grand, Ruskin s 
joining in the teaching ? 

Time and space alike are wanting to do more than allude 
to the one engrossing subject of these fearful days of suspense. 
It is somewhat paradoxical, but I believe I feel far more happy 
than otherwise even at the losses we have sustained ; every 


despatch seems to carry fresh assurance that God has not 
ceased to go forth with our armies, even though He may 
allow every man in the Crimea to perish by the enemy. Some 
times I fancy it is well for us Churchmen to have our love for 
England thus quickened and deepened before we are tempted 
to hate her for outrages against Christ s Church. But I be 
lieve these are faithless thoughts, though they will come. 
Ever yours affectionately, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


HARDWICK, December 30^, 1854 ; 
January 2.nd, 1855. 

You will have seen that the new Theological Tripos 
was passed unanimously ; the truth is, there were but few 
in the Senate House. Some who objected were unwilling to 
give the first nonplacet ; others (myself included) did not dis 
cover that the graces were being read till the whole was over. 
I am not, however, very sorry ; the present plan is infinitely 
less objectionable than the other, and perhaps it is not alto 
gether amiss that the experiment should be tried. Some 
changes of detail will by and bye have to be made ; e.g. it is 
not only ridiculous but very mischievous that candidates for 
Honours in Theology should be required to know no more 
Church History than that of the first three centuries and the 
Reformation. The proposed changes in Little-go and the Pol 
do not come before the Senate till next term, when we shall 
also, I suppose, have a report from the St. Mary s Syndicate, 
which is at present divided against itself. Whewell and 
Willis are violent upholders of Golgotha and the preaching 
house theory of St. Mary s : Harvey Goodwin (whom I am 
glad to see appointed Hulsean Lecturer) is, I believe, leader 
of the opposition. 

There has been some excitement at Cambridge about 
Rowland Williams sermons before the University this month. 
Unluckily I did not hear any of them; but I suspect they 
must have been really very heterodox, and certainly very odd, 
though, it is said, beautiful compositions. Selwyn s sermons 
were, as you may well suppose, a great treat. It was very 


interesting to see how with a mind unphilosophical and nearly 
untheological he was driven by the realities of his life to feed 
on the highest Catholic truths. The subject of his Ramsden 
sermon seemed perpetually to dwell in his mind, the 
prayers of the Son of God. It was amusing to see how he 
seemed to fancy that all Cambridge was troubled with doubts 
about Unity and in danger of going over to Rome ! But 
his speech at the Propagation Society meeting was the 
grandest thing of all. He began in a low voice with adminis 
tering one of the most terrible rebukes I ever heard in the 
gentlest and most gentlemanly form, and then spoke with 
extraordinary rapidity for a considerable while, every minute 
making one feel more strongly the depth of his wisdom. 
Dear old Blunt then said a few words, which I could not 
catch ; and Harvey Goodwin made a speech which would 
have been good at an earlier hour, but was then too long and 
fell flat. I hope we shall not lose altogether the quickening 
effects of his visits to Cambridge. 

One of the most important events of the year 
1855, as showing Hort s active interest in other 
matters than those directly concerning a scholar, was 
the establishment of a Working Men s College at Cam 
bridge. In the following year he, along with Maurice, 
assisted at the inauguration of a similar institution at 
Oxford, one of the very few occasions on which he 
made a public speech. On the occasion of this visit 
to Oxford he took an ad eundem degree. His diary 
and correspondence about this time are for some 
reason very scanty. The Crimean War was much in 
his mind. His thoughts on the tragedy of the 
war were given a personal turn by the death at 
Malta of a young officer s wife, for whom he and his 
friend Blunt had a great regard. Their feeling about 
the war, thus intensified by sympathy with the sorrow 
of common friends, took shape in the anonymous 





joint publication of a little volume of verse called 
Peace in War. The last only of the poems, that 
called Tintern, was by Hort ; it was suggested by 
a walk taken in October 1855 to the ruined abbey, 
which was one of the chief delights in the neigh 
bourhood of his new Chepstow home. The poem, 
somewhat difficult and compressed as is its style, ex 
hibits a command of language which the writer did 
not at all times possess. Apart from its beauty, 
this, his one original poetic utterance, is interesting on 
that ground alone, but it is perhaps chiefly remark 
able biographically as evidence of a mind which 
regarded every passing event not in isolation, but as 
part of the great scheme of human life, which even 
in early manhood * saw life steadily, and saw it 
whole. The occasion which had prompted his friend s 
verses is merged in the thought of the general tragedy 
of the war, while the war itself is treated as part of 
the universal mystery of pain and death ; and, charac 
teristically, pain becomes the ground of a manly 
optimism ; the peace is like that of which a more 
recent poet speaks : 

Not Peace that grows by Lethe, scentless flower, 
There in white languors to decline and cease ; 
But Peace whose names are also Rapture, Power, 
Clear sight and Love, for these are parts of Peace. 1 


So stood the clustering hills 

About the sacred nest, 
When first stern English wills 

Disturbed its grassy rest ; 
So glowed or gloomed the narrowed sky 
On labouring limb and praying eye. 

1 William Watson, Wordsworth s Grave. 


When round the crumbling walls 

May s brightest blooms are shed, 
And earth s fresh glory falls 

Alive athwart the dead ; 
The heart within us will rejoice, 
And answer with its human voice. 

For then her choicest stores 
The foster-mother brings, 
And duteously adores 

Her ancient priests and kings ; 
New decking after winter s rage 
The tomb that marks a perished age. 

And we are of to-day ; 

The spring in leaf and bud 
More meetly than decay 

Beats time to dancing blood : 
Our wayward eye will scarcely brook 
On unattempered death to look. 

But holier yet the sight, 

When summer s glare is gone, 
And chill autumnal light 

Is searching every stone, 
Till faint amid the paling blue 
Calm golden stars steal trembling through. 

For now in lonely air 

The ruin lonely stands ; 
The beauty still is there 

That grew by human hands : 
The year s young glory dying lies ; 
But this endures through wintry skies. 

Through no deceitful mask 

The foster-mother still 
Pursues her gracious task, 

Is bright or dark at will : 
The promise of her spring were less 
But for her autumn mournfulness. 


And giving of her mirth, 

And taking of their tears, 
She soothes mankind from birth 

Through all the fitful years : 
The face whose gladness wakes their own 
Diviner yet in grief is known. 

Tis better far to stand 

Full face to face with death, 
To grip his grinding hand, 

To feel his stiffening breath, 
Than heap vain veils to hide away 
The tokens of his certain sway. 

For when we know him well, 

We know him conquered too ; 
Unknown, the depths of hell 

Breed phantoms ever new ; 
But they who dwell within the light 
Need fear no shade that haunts the night. 

Deep autumn s solemn voice 

Is music to the ear, 
When we would fain rejoice, 

But cannot stifle fear : 
Such evening tones give strength to gaze 
On threatening dawns of latter days. 

For, while the hurrying years 

Flash by to join the past, 
A swarm of nameless fears 

Buzz round us thick and fast ; 
We cower from ghosts of coming ill, 
And hug the present closer still. 

Its joys are all we crave, 

Its voice seems always true ; 
We long that one deep grave 

Might swallow old and new ; 
Cling blindly to life s outer crust, 
And only live because we must. 


The works of elder time 

Afflict us with their peace ; 
Their presence seems a crime ; 

Though dead they will not cease : 
In vain we strive alone to dwell, 
Unbidden faces mock the spell. 

And round the aimless dance 

Of mad unrest within 
The outer lightnings glance, 

World-thunders shake their din ; 
From nook to nook in grief or dread 
The pulses of the tempest spread. 

With fiercer, blinder pride 

Death gluts his shortened reign ; 
His cunning poisons glide 

Through many a living vein ; 
And swifter struck with sudden might 
His thousands pass from mortal sight. 

Yet blest be every power 

That breaks the dreadful trance ; 
In such tumultuous hour 

The hosts of truth advance ; 
And welcome all, though rough its guise, 
That rends the film from dreamy eyes. 

What but a coward breast 

Would sigh for only calm ? 
And he, that woos his rest, 

Knows neither peace nor palm ; 
But richer joys will heal the smarts 
Of valiant arms and loving hearts. 

Then ask we not the tomb 
To render back the past. 
From time s all-fruitful womb 

The fairest springs the last ; 
And long-forgotten years obey 
The works and glories of to-day. 


Yet mid the roaring throng 

Tis well to hear arise 
The silent evening song 

Of yonder autumn skies, 
Bring back yon roofless aisles, and hold 
Strange converse with the times of old. 

So from the inner shrine 

Yet holier strains may steal, 
And all the heart divine 

Of earthly forms reveal ; 
Weak moulds of dust no longer hide 
The dead and living side by side. 


Then back to earth once more. 

She hath her glory too ; 
Nor lacks she heavenly lore 

For them that read her true ; 
And changeful gleams may show aright 
The changeless and eternal light. 

When Christmas bells shall ring 

Across the lifeless snow, 
We too will gladly sing 

The joy above the woe ; 
No storm of earth shall keep afar 
The peace that cannot turn to war. 

And, when through budding trees 

Blithe Easter chimes shall bound, 
Tossed on the quickening breeze 

In waves of throbbing sound, 
We will not scorn the bliss of spring 
For all our autumn murmuring ; 

But cherish, as we may, 

The living fire that burns 
In growth and in decay, 

In light and shade by turns ; 
And greet through veils of sunlit tears 
The perfect sum of deathless years. 


The authorship of Tintern was not disclosed ; 
it was guessed, however, by Daniel Macmillan. 

In 1856 Hort took priest s orders at Ely. In the 
same year he examined, for the first time, for the 
Natural Sciences Tripos. The Councils of the Work 
ing Men s College and of the Cambridge Philosophical 
Society occupied much time. Much also was given to 
the composition of the monograph on S. T. Coleridge, 
which appeared in the Cambridge Essays for 1856. 
The essay itself is compressed, and its scope could 
hardly be indicated by any attempt at further abstrac 
tion ; it considers Coleridge as a man, a poet, a theo 
logian, a philosopher, and shows a remarkably deep 
and wide acquaintance both with Coleridge and with 
Coleridge s teachers. Mr. Leslie Stephen once spoke 
of it to me as the only serious attempt known to him 
to give a coherent account of Coleridge s philosophy. 
The nervous vigour of the style seems to show that 
composition, in spite of the difficulty of the subject, 
came easier to the writer at this age (twenty-eight) 
than at most periods of his life ; but the appearance 
may after all be deceptive. 

In the May term Hort had a short experience of 
the work of a college lecturer. In the Long Vacation 
he spent nearly two months in Switzerland, chiefly in 
company with Lightfoot. The principal climbing 
event of the tour was the ascent of the Jungfrau, of 
which Hort s own description may be read in the 
Eggischhorn climbing-book. Later in the month he 
engaged the afterwards famous guide, Melchior Ander- 
egg, with whom he crossed by a little known pass from 
Schwarenbach to Sierre in the Rhone valley. The rest 
of the time was spent mainly in the Mont Blanc region, 
in company partly with four other Fellows of Trinity, 


Lightfoot, the Rev. J. LI. Davies, Mr. F. Vaughan 
Hawkins, and Mr. (now the Rev. Dr.) H. W. Watson. 
The chief object of the tour had been to ascend Mont 
Blanc from the St. Gervais side ; four attempts were 
made, but all were frustrated by bad weather. Hort, 
who took part in the last three of the excursions, wrote 
very full accounts to his parents and to Ellerton, some 
of which, familiar as the ground is now, are interesting 
as showing what kind of difficulties confronted the 
pioneers of the science of mountaineering. The story 
of these experiences is also told by Mr. Vaughan 
Hawkins in Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers (ist series, 

1859, PP. 58-74)- 

A notable feature of these expeditions was Hort s 
attempt at photography in the high Alps. He 
carried to considerable heights a full-plate camera of 
the cumbrous make of the period, and took several 
pictures. Unluckily the waxed paper was kept too 
long undeveloped, and all Hort s efforts, assisted by 
his friend W. T. Kingsley, with whom he did much 
photographic work, could not produce a presentable 


CAMBRIDGE, February $th, 1855. 

... I have just been reading in the sheets of Kingsley s 
Westward Jfo/a. capital description of the attempt of the 
Spaniards to effect a lodgement in Munster in 1580, and have 
been so much interested by it that I daresay I shall some day 
make an effort to discover what your books 1 may contain 
about it. Kingsley s novel is the very thing to come out 
now, judging by so much of it as I have read ; and I think 
you will enjoy it thoroughly. The only fault I have to find 
with it is that he will not leave those poor Stuarts alone. 

1 Bradshaw had recently become a master at St. Columba s College, 
near Dublin. 


To THE REV. GARNONS WILLIAMS (his Brother-in-law) 

CAMBRIDGE, March 8th, 1855. 

... I am glad you find some spirit still left even in the 
printed text of Selwyn s Sermons. To myself, who heard 
three of them delivered, they seem in reading almost tame as 
compared with what they sounded from the pulpit, as indeed 
I felt was likely to be the case, when I heard them. Now it 
is necessary to conjure up his face and voice and combine them 
with the words, before I can really enter into the sermons. 
This fact, however, does not make them less valuable to 
readers. It only confirms my previous impression that his 
greatness lies rather in his energy, resolution, generosity, 
and singleness of heart than in any specially intellectual 

We have lately had a magnificent gift to our College 
Library. Dear old Archdeacon Hare left us his whole German 
library of 3000 volumes, by far the best in this country, and 
rich in valuable books and tracts hard to meet with even in 
Germany ; he also sent a message that he would have given 
us his classical and theological books besides, but that he 
feared to burden us with duplicates of books that we had 
already. Mrs. Hare, however, entreated that we would send 
some one to choose out any that we pleased. Before he 
arrived, however, she had herself picked out and sent off some 
valuable large serial works, for fear we might have scruples 
about taking them ! Altogether we have from 4500 to 5000 
volumes. He has also given us busts of Coleridge and of 
your bishop, 1 which I have not yet seen. Poor Thirlwall is 
sadly cut up, I hear from those who saw him at the funeral. 
Hare was his dearest friend ; and the very great benefits which 
they have both rendered to English literature were mainly 
connected with the employments in which they were associated 
together. Well, here is the end of a sheet; so I will say 
good-night. Ever your affectionate brother, 


1 Viz. the Bishop of St. David s. 

AGE 26 




CAMBRIDGE, March nth and 2Otk, 1855. 

You ask about Ellis. 

knew him personally. 


I am sorry to say ; but, when a freshman, I often saw him. I 
should suspect that he knows more than any man living, and 
is among the deepest thinkers ; he is also one of the purest 
and humblest Christians. But his living martyrdom cannot 
last much longer ; for months he has not been able to move a 

I have heard but little about dear old Hare. One hardly 
knew how one loved him till he was gone. You gave me a 
sad shock in writing about him ; telling me that I " must gird 

up my loins and take up the " here the page ended ; when 

I turned it, and saw the next words " prophetic mantle," they 
gave a thorough chill. But just then the conclusion of that 
precious sermon on Saul, which I remember so well describing 
to you as we shouldered our way through the confusion of 
Bishopsgate Street, occurred to me, and relieved me by 
making me feel that in that sense I could accept your words 
and wish their fulfilment, to " desire not the power of the 
prophets but their obedience, not to speak inspired words, but 
to have the humble and contrite heart which He does not 
despise." But enough of this. 

... A large number of books worth mention have come 
out lately, but I must only speak of one or two. First and 
foremost is Kingsley s Westward Ho! which is published 
to-morrow. He has quite surpassed himself; all his old 
energy and geniality, tempered with thorough self-restraint and 
real Christian wisdom. The suffering and anxiety he has 
endured now for some time have obviously much purified and 
chastened him, and rather increased than lessened his strength 
and elasticity. I hardly know a more wholesome book for any 
one to read. Personally I feel deeply indebted to it, though 
I suppose its lessons, like most others, will prove transitory 
enough. Don t smile ; but my first impulse, after reading it, 
was to wish myself chaplain of the Dauntless. For the first 

i Robert Leslie Ellis. 


time, while I have been writing this down, the thought of one 
John Brimblecombe has flashed upon me, as likely when you 
read the book to appear whimsically to you to have suggested 
to me that wish ; but the fact is I never thought of him and 
his chaplaincy in connexion with the subject till this moment. 
It is some time since I read the book, and the wish is not yet 
quite melted away, but I suppose it is sufficiently fantastic. I 
ought to say that Westward Ho / will very possibly not be 
popular. Some will say that it is too like a book of travels ; 
others, like a common novel, etc. etc. Its great fault is its 
dearness, so that I must wait for the cheap edition. Kingsley 
has also printed (anonymously) a little tract for soldiers, 
Brave Words for Brave Men, a dilution of a passage in that 
astonishing sermon of Maurice s on the Word of God 
conquering by sacrifice. It is very spirited and good, but 
not all I could wish. Great numbers have been already sold 
for distribution. Maurice s Edinburgh Lectures, and also those 
on Learning and Working, will soon be out in one volume ; 
I have not seen them. Parker has started as a speculation 
two yearly volumes like reviews, Oxford Essays and Cambridge 
Essays. The latter will be out in the autumn ; the former has 
been out some weeks. They are mainly pleasant, but not 
very substantial reading, except one invaluable paper by 
Froude on the study of English History, full of the best kind 
of toryism. Trench has brought out another nice little book 
on the English language, Past and Present. Another genuine 
poet has arisen, to whom I hope some day to introduce you, 
one Coventry Patmore. His (anonymous) Angel in the House 
is coming into notice, at least at Cambridge ; but his previous 
volume (Tamerton Church Tower), which I have read to-day, 
is better still. 

Do pray give me a good long letter very soon, such a letter 
as you used sometimes to write in days when you had neither 
wife nor bairns ; for I am always less bad when there is any 
thing of you to help me. All love to aforesaid wife and 
bairns. Ever your affectionate friend, 


AGE 2( 



HARDWICK, April io//z, 1 R 
LLOWES, 1 April \f>th, } 55 

You have been, I think, a little wilful in your way 
of understanding my implied accusation. I never charged 
you with writing worse letters in quality, since you became a 
noun of multitude. But I have enough materialism in me to 
think that quantity has its merits as well as quality ; and I do 
say that for the last three years your letters have been too 
often seasoned with the soul of wit, to a height unpleasing 
to my dainty palate and insatiable maw. 

The London trip was a very pleasant one. We are think 
ing of establishing a Working Men s College in Cambridge, 
something like that in London. They were going on the 
Thursday to have the tea which opens their term, and 
Davies wanted some of us to come and be present, which I 
was not sorry to do, as I wanted much to consult him and 
Maurice on some points. So Vesey 2 and I went up together, 
he being quartered on the Butlers, I on Davies. We had a 
pleasant evening enough ; I sat next to Maurice and had some 
talk. Friday was chiefly spent with Vesey and Butler, 3 seeing 
the great new church in Margaret Street. By the way, you 
ask about Butler, as if you ought to have known him. But 
the fact is, he has but just taken his degree, being senior 
classic. He is a son of the late Dean of Peterborough, brother 
of Spencer Butler (in the year below ours), an old Rugby 
friend of mine, and of George Butler, who was my host at 
Oxford when I was ordained. He is a very noble fellow; 
indeed I do not think I love any one now at Cambridge so 
well. I dined with the Butlers in Westbournia, and then we 
went to Exeter Hall to hear Mendelssohn s * Lobgesang and 
Mozart s Requiem. Next day I dined with Maurice alone 
at two, and then had a thoroughly enjoyable talk with him of 
two or three hours about the College and other matters, and 

1 In Herefordshire, the parish of his brother-in-law, the Rev. Garnons 

2 The Rev. F. G. (now Archdeacon) Vesey. 

3 H. Montagu Butler, now Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. 


he gave me his new book, Learning and Working^ which is 
worth its weight in gold. Next morning I went to Davies 
church, and heard him preach ; in the afternoon to Lincoln s 
Inn, and heard a good sermon from Maurice; and in the 
evening to St. Bartholomew s, Stepney, where Kingsley was to 
preach for Vivian, Davies friend and neighbour. Kingsley 
was almost late ; he looked very haggard, worn, and wild ; but 
the sermon was one which few who heard it are likely ever to 
forget. You know I don t like his printed sermons in general, 
but this was quite another thing. It showed even more than 
Westward Ho! how deeply his distresses had worked in 
purifying and chastening him, and making him more of a 
Christian, as well as more of a man. After church he came 
for a few moments into the parsonage. I shook hands with 
him, but he had forgotten my face, for which he was almost 
ready to go on his knees when I told him my name; 
but we had no opportunity for talk. As he was going, 
the drawing-room being crowded, I went after him into the 
room where the hats were, with Vivian and some one else. 
When he saw me, he reproached himself violently for having 
been on the point of going without saying good-bye, took me 
by both hands, and asked when we could really meet. 
Fortunately he will be in London (he even talks of Cam 
bridge) all June, and indeed will be hanging about London 
most of the year, as he is going to rebuild his parsonage in a 
less noxious spot. When I saw and heard and felt him again, 
I thought of what you had said last summer, and forgave you 
for your preference of him to Maurice, though my own 
judgement was unchanged. The grip of his hand would be a 
cordial for almost any ill ; and it seems impossible to despair 
of anything while he is among the living. 

Llowes, April i6th. I meant to have finished this letter 
before, but find it hard to get time for writing here. . . . The 
new church here, though small, is one of the most beautiful 
modern ones I have seen ; it has its blemishes, but it is a real 
luxury to look at it, and would be still more so to have for 
one s own church. Yesterday I preached my first sermon, but 
it was necessarily only in the schoolroom. 

... I ought not to forget to mention Maurice s Lectures 

AGE 27 



on Learning and Working and on Roman Religion. They 
are some of the profoundest, cleverest, and most delightful 
things he has written, and full of invaluable hints on education 
and politics. I must now have done, only expressing a hope 
that you will continue to uphold the honour of wife and 
children (to whom all love) by the excellence of your corre 
spondence. Ever yours affectionately, 



HARDWICK, October 2nd, 1855. 

... I am sorry to say I have not read more than half a 
volume of Jowett 1 as yet. But the day before yesterday I 
read his essay on Natural Religion. Few, if any, of the 
thoughts were new to me ; but it gives one a high impression 
of his goodness and wisdom. The facts (at least the modern 
facts) are indisputable, but is not his conclusion, so far as he 
has a conclusion, blank scepticism ? After all he says very 
little about physical theology, which seems to be your 
subject just now. I confess I have thought and care com 
paratively little for that aspect of the matter, and have a strong 
Job-like feeling, "The deep saith, It is not in me," etc., but I 
should much like a talk with you. 


CAMBRIDGE, October 24^, 1855. 

. . . Mackenzie s Essay is at last really published, I am 
happy to say, and looks very well. I forgot to order to-day 
a copy for my father, as he asked me, but I will send one 
to-morrow. We have had several visitors the last few days, 
which partly accounts for the flight of time. One of these 
is a friend of mine who has been away some years, and is 
a brother worshipper of brambles. We spent a considerable 
part of a day in looking and talking over the large bundle 

1 Viz. Professor Jowett s edition of St. Paul s Epistles to the Thessa- 
lonians, Galatians> and Romans. 


that I had brought home this year. But it was curious to 
find how few of my forms he could recognize as Worces 
tershire friends. Another visitor, who is here still, is Dr. 
Tregelles of Plymouth, whose life is completely given up to 
the restoration of the Greek text of the New Testament, 
and whom I was therefore particularly glad to know personally, 
though we had exchanged several letters before. 


CAMBRIDGE, November \%th and 26tk, 1855. 

My dear Blunt The time has slipped away unaccountably 
without my writing, but I will not waste any more in making 
excuses. I do not know that I have anything more to say 
about the subject of subjects. 1 I suppose you are right in 
thinking that the last generation did not die away in the same 
fearful way. This we owe partly, I suppose, to their and their 
fathers escapes ; partly also, perhaps, to the fierce and furious 
life which we live within nowadays; at least I have not 
noticed such mortality among thick-skinned and tepid persons. 
But if we live fewer years, we have far more of life crowded 
into every year. And after all, could we desire to live in a 
time when God was less sharply and pertinaciously forcing the 
sensation of His presence upon us ? I for one wish always to 
keep in mind the motto to Yeast , " The days will come, when 
ye shall desire to see one of the days of the Son of Man, and 
ye shall not see it." And once more have we not a 
miserable, cowardly dread of physical death, such as no 
Christian age ever had before, and do we in our hearts suffi 
ciently believe that all live unto God ? . . . 

I have been induced to take fresh work in the shape of 
examining for the Natural Science Tripos in the spring, and 
also for the different Professorial certificate examinations in 
the same subjects. There is so much now to draw me away 
from natural science that I am not sorry to be compelled to 
stick to it, as I am sure that in moderation it is good for me 
in particular, and partly for everybody ; besides, it is a great 

1 The Crimean War. 

AGE 27 



enjoyment. I am just treating myself to a first-rate micro 
scope, which will be a great accession. By the way, I am 
also going to start Photography. 

I have never told you, I believe, about the Working Men s 
College which we have set up here like that in town. It is 
too long a story for a letter, but I will send you Harvey 
Goodwin s Inaugural Lecture when it appears, which will tell 
you something. I take the second Latin class, and lecture 
for an hour on Thursday evening, chiefly catechetically. 
Even if the educational results are poor, it is a vast gain to 
both sides that the University men and any kind of working 
men should be brought into that kind of intercourse. It is a 
strangely happy feeling to see the softened and bright kindly 
eyes of those young fellows looking up at one. Maurice is 
coming here on Friday for a night to see how we get on 
(though he has no connexion with us), and we are all to meet 
him at Goodwin s house. 

About Jowett, I don t think you could go beyond me in 
enjoying and praising him. His wonderful sympathy, depth 
of insight into men, and thorough love of truth and fact are 
above praise ; but, alas ! his theological conclusions seem to 
me blank atheism, though he is anything but an atheist. 
Even the learning and scholarship of the book you must not 
accept on trust. It is nearly always second-hand, and often 
quite wrong. I have not yet been able to do much more 
than look over Sydney Smith, but it seems very delightful. 
It is very obvious that we have never done him justice. Still 
we should be in a very bad way now if we had not had at the 
same time far deeper men, whom he probably both mis 
understood and despised. Miss Forssteen will probably have 
told you of the volume of Lectures to Ladies, which even now 
I have not finished. Several are invaluable, Maurice s of 
course, also Dr. Chambers , Davies , and a thoroughly practical 
and sensible one of Kingsley s ; it is remarkable as the only 
place where I remember to have seen him speak despondingly 
of the state of England, and it is a sad confirmation of one s 
own fears. Bunsen will of course have shown you the 
delightful translations of German hymns which another Miss 
Winkworth has published. If you remember any of our talks 


about Novalis, you will read with interest " What had I been 
if Thou wert not ? " She has much shortened and demysticized 
it ; but I cannot say spoiled it. I hope you noticed Godfrey 
Arnold s " How blest to all Thy followers, Lord, the road." 
Maurice has written a preface to the new edition of the Old 
Testament [Sermons] (now called Patriarchs and Lawgivers), 
in answer to Hansel s pamphlet on Eternity, or rather pointing 
out how much must be consistently given up by those who 
profess to adopt Hansel s philosophical scheme against him. 
He has also written a preface of 100 pages to Hare s Charges, 
which are going to be collected into one volume (including 
the unprinted ones). The preface will be, as he intimates 
himself, a comment on the English Church History of the last 
fifteen years. A very noble Scotchman named Campbell, 
who was turned out of the Kirk with Irving, Alex. Scott, etc., 
for asserting that God does not will the death of a sinner, is 
publishing at Hacmillan s a valuable book on the Atonement, 
much of which I have read. It is quiet and evangelical in 
tone, and not at all alarming ; I do not think it meets all 
sides of the question, but it expresses my own ideas better 
than any book I ever saw. 


CAMBRIDGE, November 30^, 1855. 

... I had an extremely kind note from Hrs. Hackenzie, 
thankfully praising the book, and telling me that all friends, 
Lord Hurray in particular, wrote to her to the same effect. I 
can honestly say that I was perfectly disinterested in undertak 
ing the labour; but I have no doubt that, if ever I go to 
Edinburgh, as Hrs. Mackenzie has often pressed me to do, I 
shall find there that it has gained me several kindly-disposed 


HARDWICK, January 2nd and *jth, 1856. 

Hy dear Ellerton I feel some shame at having acted on 
what looks like commercial principles in not writing because 

AGE 27 



you owe me a letter ; but I have written hardly any letters the 
last few months beyond what have been absolutely necessary, 
and it really seems as if every month I had less and less time 
for anything, while yet the results are painfully empty. 

I have not much to tell you about myself. What chiefly 
occupied me last year was Mackenzie s Essay, of which I hope 
you received a copy that I sent by post. This last term I 
hardly know what I have been doing, except the ordinary 
work of our Journal of Philology, and preparing a rather 
elaborate article on the date of Justin Martyr, 1 which I have 
not yet finished. Examinations also take up time. ... As for 
plans for the year, it is far too early to think of them, and I 
now never know my fate for a month beforehand. But 
Lightfoot and I have some vague ideas of getting three or 
four weeks together at Paris to collate MSS., he of Clement of 
Alexandria, and I of Epiphanius ; and the experience of 
eighteen months ago was so favourable as to my health, that 
I dream of trying to get four or five weeks more among the 
glaciers. But this is all among the clouds. 

You would be surprized at the changes at Cambridge. 
The tutors now are Mathison, Thacker, and Munro. Dear 
old Munro groans under the infliction, but I think it will do 
him a great deal of good. We have had a great loss in 
Scott, 2 but one could not grudge him to Westminster. The 
most important man, I think, now in Trinity is Lightfoot, from 
whom I expect a great deal. He always seemed solid, a good 
scholar, and disposed to be a learned and thoughtful theologian; 
but I was hardly prepared for the vivacity and liberality which 
he has shown in the last few months. He is certainly West- 
cott s best pupil. At St. John s we have lost Hutchinson, who 
has just married and gone to Birmingham ; but the two Mayors 
and Roby are invaluable in their several ways. 

But perhaps the most important Cambridge matter of all 
has been the establishment of the Working Men s College. . . . 
Somewhere about October 1854 Montagu Butler (a most 
excellent fellow, and brother Apostle, senior classic last 
spring, and elected Fellow of Trinity his first time) spoke to 

1 See Journal of Classical and Sacred Philology r , No. viii. p. 155. 
2 The Rev. C. B. Scott. 


me on the subject, having been of course stimulated by the 
then recent foundation of the College in London. Whether 
he or Vesey was the first to suggest it for Cambridge, I don t 
know ; but they consulted together. My advice was to wait 
a while, till the London experiment had been fairly tried, and 
then see what could be done. In December I was introduced 
to Vesey, and he spoke to me about it, and I gave the same 
answer. He had been similarly advised by ; ; H. Goodwin. 
Early last spring, however, they moved again, and this time 
H. Goodwin consented to act at once ; and of course, entirely 
approving the project in itself, I could not refuse to do the 
same, though I should have preferred further delay. We four, 
with A. Macmillan and Joe Mayor, met repeatedly and got our 
ideas into shape ; we then called a meeting of friends well 
disposed to the plan [and] voted (after much discussion) 
several fundamental principles, the chief being that the 
Council should consist exclusively of teachers and such as 
should be ready to teach if called upon. Those present who 
were willing to subscribe to this condition then became ipso 
facto the Council, all future members being admitted on 
similar terms by ballot. Harvey Goodwin was elected 
Principal. After many meetings in that and May term, we 
took and furnished rooms at the back of a house in the 
market-place, and in October started the classes. Hitherto 
the success has been in most respects all we could desire, in 
number of students most remarkably so. The great principle 
we have started from is to substitute for Mechanics Institute 
orations and lectures a bond fide education by means of 
carefully catechetical lessons. Even if the education actually 
given should prove to be small in amount, which we have no 
right to assume, two great benefits must, I think, arise : ist, 
the men (who are chiefly young) will be shown practically what 
accurate learning and knowledge is, and will at least receive a 
good lesson in genuine self-education ; and 2nd, and above 
all, the University and the town will be brought face to face 
in a way that cannot fail to be of the greatest possible service 
to both. Indeed, over and above the object of bridging over 
the chasm between classes, I am sanguine enough to hope that 
the rest of the University will receive a healthy impulse towards 

VGE 27 



a real combination of learning and work, and a practical 
horrour of keeping knowledge, or anything else, hid in a 
napkin. I think you will allow that these are strong reasons 
for doing what we can at Cambridge ; and of course the 
assemblage of a good staff of teachers, such as only an 
University town could furnish, is a very great help. I must not 
write longer on this point, but I hope we shall soon have an 
opportunity of talking it over. Maurice is of course greatly 
interested in our experiment, and actually came down to us for 
three nights (including Sunday) at the beginning of December. 
In the morning he preached at St. Edward s for H. Goodwin, 
in the evening for Tayler at St. Mary s, and you may imagine 
what a pleasure it was to hear him from that pulpit. Tayler 
opened the galleries (they have been closed in the evenings 
since Cams departure), and every part of the church was 
crammed. He gave us a very simple and affecting sermon on 
godly sorrow and the sorrow of the world, and I have some 
reason to hope it conquered some prejudices. Poor dear old 

- was aghast at such a pollution of St. Mary s pulpit, and 
doubly so when he heard that Maurice had preached a most 
inoffensive sermon, remarking that he was very sorry to hear 
it, as it would only delude people into a false security. 
Maurice seems to have gone back to London greatly delighted 
and encouraged by his visit. He has left us a pleasant relic 
of it in his portrait, which Macmillan induced him to have 
taken by a photographer on Parker s Piece. Well ! unless 
something fresh occurs to me, I think this must do for 
Cambridge news. . . . 

I cannot remember whether I mentioned to you Westcott s 
new book on the N. T. Canon, as solid and thorough a book 
as you will often see. A very valuable book on the Atone 
ment (of which I have read four or five chapters) is just 
coming out by Campbell, a great friend of Alexander Scott, 
and expelled with him from the Kirk. He was at Cambridge 
last term, and a milder and more beautiful spirit I have 
seldom seen, with much of the wisdom that it might be 
expected to produce. . . . Maurice is getting on with the 
Mediaval Philosophy^ but his thoughts chiefly turn to the 
last instalment of the Warburtonian Lectures, the commentary 


on St. John s writings. When that shall have been published, 
he tells Macmillan (but of course it must not be repeated) he 
feels that his work on earth will be done. Birks has just 
published at Macmillan s a book, The Difficulties of Belief. 
The leading ideas seem to be a strong faith in man s freedom, 
and the necessity of recognizing it in all theology, and a 
horrour of attributing arbitrary and potter -like conduct to 
God ; and from such premises some rather weighty results 
may be worked out. I hope you will see Kingsley s new 
book for children, The Heroes. It is nearly free from 
preaching, and a singularly beautiful and truthful rendering 
of the stories of Perseus, the Argonauts, and Theseus. The 
engravings are by his own hand, and surprised me exceed 
ingly after his failure in Glaucus. As pictures they are for 
the most part very lovely, and they have caught the true 
Greek spirit in a way that I do not remember to have seen 
even approached. The figure of Andromeda in the frontis 
piece is, I think, the best, and exquisite it is. In speaking 
of Cambridge I might have mentioned the Cambridge Essays. 
Most of the best contributors called off for one reason or 
another when the time came, and so this number is below 
what I had hoped, but still interesting. The gem of it is 
Brimley s article on Tennyson, a genuine burst of hearty 
enthusiasm ludicrously at variance with all dear Brimley s 
pet theories (he now professes to believe in nothing but 
nervous tissue !), and, except in one or two groundless 
cavils, a worthy vindication against the populace. The next 
best article is one by Hughes of Magdalen, on the Future 
Prospects of the British Navy, with which should be read 
his Cruise of the Pet, a capital account of his voyages to 
the Baltic (including Bomarsund and Sveaborg) in 54 and 
55. . . . Clark s 1 (who is the editor) is too slight (on Classi 
cal Education), but has two or three inimitable pages. Clark 
has asked me to write in the next number, and I have under 
taken a paper on Coleridge, but rather shrink from all the 
reading that ought to be accomplished beforehand. Other 
wise it would be difficult to find a more convenient way of 
uttering several things that I want to say, especially about the 
1 W. G. Clark. 

AGE 27 



tendencies of English philosophy. I am anxious to hear 
what you have been doing in certain proposed plans. Several 
promising titles of hymn-books have been advertised in the 
papers during the last year, but I have seen hardly any of 
them. Miss Winkworth has published under the name of 
Lyra Germanica a very good selection of German hymns 
from Bunsen s great collection, for the most part admirably 
translated ; but they are few, and a large proportion fit only 
for private use. Some of the so-called Christmas and Easter 
Carols done by J. M. Neale are also, to my surprise, ex 
tremely good hymns for church use ; others are simply 
absurd. When I was with you at Brighton you were at 
work on a scheme for a book in conjunction with your 
Canterbury friends (I forget the name). I hope that is not 
given up. I may as well tell you at once that in four or five 
days you will receive a poem of Blunt s. The verses headed 
Tintern, October 1855, are my own. 

It is rather too late at the end of this tolerably long letter 
to begin talking politics, but I must own I should be glad to 
know what you are thinking of the progress of affairs. I find 
so few to agree with me, that every accession gains double 
the value to me that it would have for its own sake. The 
preface to poor Henry Lushington s Poems seems to me still 
incomparably the truest word that has yet been spoken about 
the war ; and no one else seems really to feel what is at 
stake. The blind ferocity of the war party and the narrow 
Guizotian aims of even the noblest and bravest of the men 
of peace repel one s thoughts almost alike. How one 
almost curses that word civilization ! And then what a 
glorious future the new seers promise us ! First, a military- 
despotism, whether it be Russian or Occidental, and then a 
China, a hive of industry. And then how many cen 
turies work is undone in that Concordat ! Still there is hope 
in this new Swedish alliance. Sweden itself, I fear, is half 
rotten, morally and politically, but in Norway and Denmark, 
if anywhere, can I see any promise of genuine life. I had 
better stop ; so I will only send kind regards to your mother, 
and, though late, every best wish for the new year. Ever 
yours affectionately, FENTON J. A. HORT. 




CAMBRIDGE, Febmary 2%tk, 1856. 

. . . You will perhaps have been expecting to hear some 
thing about my ordination at Ely last Sunday week, but really 
there was nothing about it on which I could write with any 
pleasure. Nothing could well be more frigid and perfunctory 
without being absolutely offensive. 

That little creature (Chelifer by name), which I found in 
the wood, turns out to be a real curiosity. It is exactly as I 
supposed, intermediate between scorpions, spiders, and mites. 
Both Babington and William Kingsley have known it some 
years, but hardly anything has been written on the curious 
little tribe to which it belongs. They are chiefly to be found 
behind the loosened bark of trees. My capture is now safely 
mounted in Canada balsam, and it is fortunate that our first 
attempt failed, and that he was laid by in spirits of wine, 
though he suffered some injuries then, and some more 


CAMBRIDGE, March 2Oth, 1856. 

... In the new number of our Journal of Philology is a 
most excellent review x of Stanley and Jowett as critics by 
Lightfoot, but he purposely avoids the theology. I have, 
however, just seen in MS. a big pamphlet or small book which 
Davies is going to print against Jowett s theology ; in nearly 
every word of which I concur, though I should like to say a 
good deal more of both praise and blame. ... I think I 
mentioned to you before Campbell s book on the Atonement, 
which is invaluable as far as it goes ; but unluckily he knows 
nothing except Protestant theology. . . . 

You will all this while be wondering at my being up here 
at this time. The reason will perhaps surprise you also. 
Montagu Butler has accepted the post of secretary to William 
Cowper, President of the Board of Health, and has just been 

1 Journal of Classical and Sacred Philology, No. VII, 

AGE 27 



suddenly summoned to his duties. The result is that his 
lecture-room is left mouthless for next term. He has ac 
cordingly, after consultation with Mathison, asked me to 
lecture for him for next term, not as assistant tutor, but simply 
as a temporary substitute. This I have agreed to do ; and am 
therefore staying up to coach Tacitus for the benefit of 
Mathison s freshmen. I hope it may make me regular. At 
all events I like the work, though it will be laborious ; and I 
shall be my own master after next term. 

This last result may be of some consequence, if I carry 
out a dream that I have gradually been forming of going to 
Egypt, Palestine, and Syria for about January to July next. 
I don t know that I shall be able to afford it, but I think I 
ought to try. It is possible that I might join a probable party 
consisting of Butler, Vesey, Gibson, and Lightfoot. Again I 
am pretty nearly resolved to go somewhere this summer, but 
where I cannot say. Health, however, is a great object ; and 
that combined with pleasure point very strongly to M. Rosa 
and the glaciers. . . . 

We had an election of a musical professor a little while 
ago (when Sterndale Bennett, to my great joy, was elected 
triumphantly), and Trench came up to vote \ he breakfasted 
with me next morning, and I meant to have given him Peace 
in War, but forgot it. I have now, however, sent it to him. 
I have also sent it anonymously to Ruskin and Keble. 

I have done very little for Coleridge yet, but must work at 
him this term ; the essay will be far less elaborate than I had 
once thought of making it. I have not yet finished off Justin 
Martyr, but hope to do so very soon. By the way, any news 
from the Roman Bishops? I have had a vague idea of 
writing a (much wanted) pamphlet on examinations, but shall 
probably not have time. The ground is also partly occupied 
by a good book lately published by Donaldson on classical 
learning and scholarship. Much the most interesting and 
substantial book come out lately is Archer Butler s Lectures on 
Ancient Philosophy (i.e. Plato and his predecessors, Aristotle s 
Psychology^ and a little of the Neoplatonists), with very 
excellent notes by Thompson. I have just got and begun a 
huge new ^////-juvenile book by the [author of the] Heir of 


Reddyffe, The Daisy Chain, which seems promising. By the 
way, I forgot last term to advise you to read Shirley Brooks 
Aspen Court) if you see it. Thinking of it afterwards, I don t 
like it as I did at first, but it deserves reading. George 
Meredyth s (sic) Shaving of Shagpat is a prose imitation of 
the Arabian Nights, which I had not patience to get through. 
It seems clever, but quite unworthy of him. 


CAMBRIDGE, May yd, 1856. 

. . . Your questions about lecturing, etc., I had already 
anticipated in writing to my father, and I do not know that 
there is any further answer to add now. You ask, by the 
way, about hesitation. Now and then for a few seconds the 
words do not come out freely, but that is only occasionally, 
and never to a serious degree. I do not think it ever occurs 
when I get into full swing. It has this moment occurred to 
me that perhaps you may be thinking rather about fluency 
than freedom of articulation; but the fact is, the word 
lecturing is rather deceptive. What I have to do consists 
in hearing six or eight of the lecture-room read and translate 
a few lines of Latin each, correct their blunders, give any 
comments or cautions which the words of the passage suggest, 
and finally retranslate it myself; so that it is not at all like 
a continuous harangue, and nearly every sentence is directly 
suggested by the book before me. I have chiefly directed 
their attention to peculiarities of words or phrases, the exact 
force of particular expressions, the history of important words, 
and matters of that kind, which it would be difficult, if not 
impossible, for them to scrape together entirely for them 
selves out of books. For more purely historical matter I have 
referred them generally to accessible English books, occasion 
ally translating to them passages of German books which 
seemed of particular value. I find myself quite unable to 
overtake the amount of preparation for lectures which I should 
like to accomplish, but I find the same complaint by all 
conscientious lecturers at Trinity. 

AGE 28 



We are very well satisfied with our new organist, who made 
his debut a week ago. Every stranger finds our organ 
difficult at first, and accordingly on Saturday Hopkins 1 
blundered and struggled a good deal, though every now and 
then came a difficult passage so well played as to show that 
he was not wanting in skill. On Sunday he was quite success 
ful, though, of course, not equal to poor Walmisley. He 
fails most in accompanying the chanted Psalms, into which 
Walmisley Used to throw an extraordinary variety and flexi 
bility without changing a note, but in the anthems he plays the 
brilliant and delicate parts equally well. 

I have mislaid your last note, and cannot recollect whether 
there was anything in it that required answering, except about 
the fungi. But I am very much obliged for them ; they are 
certainly the true edible Morell (Morchella esculenta), which I 
have long wished to see. Berkeley calls them " esteemed 
anywhere as a valuable article of food." About the beautiful 
little red fungus which you sent me before I do not feel so 
sure. . . . The little critturs in the wood I popped into your 
little bottle of spirits of wine, but have not looked at them 
since. In the vacation Mr. William Kingsley took hastily two 
waxed paper negatives with his oxyhydrogen light to show me 
how he applies photography to the microscope. The objects 
were the spiracle or breathing -hole of a caterpillar, and a 
Chelifer something like the one I found at Hardwick, but a 
different species. He gave me the negatives, and I have just 
taken some rather indifferent positives from them, of which I 
have sent one of each, thinking you may like to see them. 


CAMBRIDGE, May i^th and i8/A, 1856. 

... I was much interested in your account of the strange 
heretics you are fallen among. At the same time I fear I 
should rave at them like a madman if I got in their company. 
no doubt rejects the common doctrine because it seems 

1 Successor to Walmisley, whose much regretted death occurred in this 
year. Hort always regarded him as the prince of organists. 


to contradict morality, and yet those vague sweeping theories 
of salvation introduce a meaning of salvation which destroys 
the very possibility of morality. All depends on our main 
taining the inviolability of the will; and for finite beings a 
will is no will which cannot choose evil. If he admits that, 
but says that the continued rebellion of any is irreconcilable 
with the triumph of God s will and love, then I say that the 
present rebellion of any is likewise inconsistent with the 
same. While that awful fact of sin is staring you in the 
face, you cannot weave theories for the future that will hold 
water, except by the German dodge of refining sin into a 
lesser kind of necessary good, which is the very devil. " I 
don t know " is at last the only possible answer. And I do most 
cordially say amen to Davies assertion that nowadays it is 
much more essential to insist on God s justice than His love. 
The idea of justice is so utterly corrupted that people oppose 
it to love, and that blasphemy must be overthrown. I quite 
allow that Davies made too much of the alleged contradictions 
in Jowett ; but after all he devotes very few pages to them. 
The purpose of the pamphlet is not to scoff at them, but to 
protest against the sentimental atheism which is Jowett s 
fundamental doctrine. Where he finds an essay that he likes, 
he does praise it, viz. the last. 


CAMBRIDGE, June i$th t 1856. 

... I have not yet told you my plans for the summer. 
I am going for six or seven weeks of hard labour among the 
glaciers and highest peaks of the Alps, eschewing the vallies 
and ordinary Swiss lions. Lightfoot and I have agreed to 
rendezvous at Luzern July iQth, spend a week in training 
among the peaks of Uri, etc., ending at the Grimsel, and a 
fortnight in the snow region of the Bernese Oberland (the 
ascent of the Jungfrau and Finsteraarhorn being dreamed of) ; 
and then make all haste to St. Gervais at the foot of Mt. 
Blanc, where we expect to find Hawkins and perhaps Ames 
or Watson, and thence ascend Mt. Blanc himself (this is a 

AGE 28 



dead secret) by the new route, thereby avoiding the extortions 
of Chamonix. Lightfoot has not made up his mind how 
much farther he will accompany us before diverging to Ger 
many, but at all events Hawkins and myself talk of moving 
eastward, crossing and recrossing the main chain till we reach 
Zermatt, and then spend some two or three weeks in that 
region, going up M. Rosa and as many other of the highest 
points (mostly unexplored hitherto) as we can manage, and 
then return home. I hope we shall find it an expedition to 
be remembered. 


yEGGisCHHORN, August 1st and yd, 1856. 

. . . My last letter was posted at Lauterbrunnen last 
Saturday. That day we did nothing particular. Next morn 
ing we read prayers to a fparty of present and old Rugbeians. 
... On Monday we started for Grindelwald by the Wengern 
Alp and Little Scheideck. The day was superb, and we had 
the best possible views of the mountains in a semicircle from 
the Jungfrau to the Bliimlis Alp and Doldenhorn, then the 
Jungfrau herself, and finally the Monch, Eiger, Mettenberg, 
and Wetterhorn. We reached Grindelwald at 12, dined and 
rested, and at a quarter to 5 set off on our first really great 
expedition, the Pass of the Strahleck. 

At Lauterbrunnen we had engaged a good guide, Fitz von 
Aimer, and at his suggestion we took another (the best) from 
Grindelwald, Peter Bohren. We had a very steep climb by 
the ordinary path to the level of what is called the Mer de 
Glace de Grindelwald. The precipices then closed in on the 
ice for some way, and after winding along their face we got 
upon the glacier for a few hundred yards, after which the 
precipices retired, leaving a rugged triangular slope, in the 
upper corner of which was perched the little chalet of Stiereck, 
which was to be our night s lodging. 

August $rd. Lightfoot and I have just had evening 
service, and now I must try to tell a little more of my story 
before going to bed. While coffee was preparing, we strolled 


about, and felt ourselves to be in a most amusing situation. 
A number of goats crowded about us, with rather too pressing 
familiarity, though we could not help admiring the pretty 
creatures perched about in all manner of odd places, and as 
inquisitive as cats ; likewise there were some aristocratic but 
decidedly stupid calves and three or four pigs. Presently 
supper was ready, and a funny meal it was, but by no means 
to be despised. We had to cut our bread and meat with our 
pocket-knives, and I stirred my coffee with a smaller one that 
I had. The coffee and milk were in two great pots, and 
served out with a wooden ladle. Of course we had taken our 
provisions with us. After supper we went to bed. The 
chalet consisted, first of a little closet or scullery, where the 
fire was ; next, of a little bit of a room with a table and two 
short benches (our dining-room) ; and next, of a slightly larger 
room or barn, with no furniture but shelves on shelves of 
cheeses, the floor being strewed with plenty of hay. In one 
corner lay two mattresses, or flat bags loosely stuffed with hay, 
and between these we gentry reposed. The guides occupied 
the loose hay. In our evening stroll we had meditated much 
on fleas in fact they were the one dark background to our 
present amusement and pleasure but happily the hay was 
clean as well as dry, and we escaped unscathed, though the 
heat and excitement kept me from getting to sleep. In the 
morning I climbed over the rocks to a little stream and 
washed my face, and after a breakfast closely resembling 
supper we set off again at 4.15. We ascended the glacier for 
some way to the other side, and then had a series of walkings 
and scramblings up rugged banks and climbings over difficult 
rocks, till at 6.30 we stood on the level of the upper end of 
the glacier. Nothing could be grander than the views the 
whole way, but especially at starting, when the range of snowy 
peaks of the Wetterhorn stood before us in the clear starlight, 
with a faint tinge of white twilight. We crossed the Grindel- 
wald glacier a second time with great ease, and then had a 
laborious ascent of the steep tributary Strahleck glacier on 
our left. At 8 we breakfasted again, and again began 
climbing over ice, snow, and rocks, till at 10.15 we reached 
the top of the pass, and stopped again to eat, photographize, 

AGE 21 



and look about. The Schreckhorn was magnificent, close 
above our heads. The Finsteraarhorn had been hidden from 
us five miles before, but the loss was made up by the other 
peaks of the Aar glaciers, especially the beautiful Oberaarhorn, 
often confounded with the rather inferior Lauteraarhorn. By 
and bye we set out to descend the other side, having first been 
tied together with a rope. We first had to scramble down a 
literally almost perpendicular precipice called the Wand (or 
Wall), but the very rugged and broken nature of the rocks, 
with ordinary care, obviated all danger. The lower part, 
which, being coated with ice, is sometimes more dangerous, 
was made comparatively easy to us from the quantity of snow 
on the ice. We slid down the lower slopes on our guides 
backs at a great pace. Just as we reached the bottom, we 
met an Englishman with two guides, coming up the pass. We 
then had a long and tedious trudge, with magnificent views, 
down the firn of this arm of the glacier. This firn is 
the upper end of all the greater glaciers, consisting of crusty, 
powdery snow rather than ice. Presently the Finsteraarhorn 
poured in its tributary stream of ice. The firn began to 
change, and we reached the Abschwang, where the Lauter 
and Finsteraar glaciers unite to form the great Lauteraar 
glacier. We had a singular walk for miles upon the united 
stream till near its end, where it became quite covered with 
lumps of rock, over which we clambered to the granite banks 
at the side. Tell my mother that the glacier stereoscopic 
photograph is of the Schreckhorn and Lauteraarhorn range of 
mountains. We must as nearly as possible have passed the 
spot where it was taken. Once more on level ground in the 
valley of the infant Aar, we set off at full speed, and reached 
the Grimsel at 7.23 P.M., having been on foot 15 \ hours. 
We ought not to have been so long, but we sometimes went 
very slowly, and there were some needless halts. 

As we approached the hospice, we saw two figures watch 
ing us, whom I soon recognised to be Mr. Mathison and Mr. 
Ingram ! We had expected to meet them before, but in vain. 
We had a delightful chat before going to bed, but they were 
off early next morning. Though not more than very slightly 
tired, we thought it best to rest next day, merely taking a walk 


of twelve or fourteen miles down to the Falls at Handeck and 
back, and my old impressions of the wonderful grandeur of 
the Grimsel scenery were more strengthened. We had fully 
intended going next day up the whole length of the Upper 
Aar glacier, over the Oberaarjoch, and down the whole 
length of the Viesch glacier to our present quarters, but that 
evening the charges for guides proved to be so exorbitant, 
that we gave up the plan, and resolved to follow the Rhone 
instead. Accordingly at 5.15 we set off up the pass, 
having transferred our luggage to a porter, and then had 
a most thoroughly enjoyable walk over moor and moss 
and down through forest straight to Obergestelen, getting 
infinitely grander views than I had at all expected. We 
reached Miinster by the valley road at 9.30, had a famous 
dfjeuner a la fourchette, and rested two hours at the little inn, 
and then tramped for three weary hours along a broil of airless 
road to Viesch, getting no shade except from some dozen 
chalets in each village. At Viesch we dined, and rested 
about four hours, and then climbed the steep mountain side 
to this half-finished but most comfortable little hotel. Next 
afternoon (Friday) at 3.41, after making extensive preparations, 
we set out for a great expedition, no less than the ascent of 
the Jungfrau, with two guides, two porters, and for a part of 
the way with a Mr. Bradshaw Smith, with his guide and porter. 
We had a stiff climb over a shoulder of the mountain, and 
down to the curious little lake of Marjelen, with little bergs of 
the purest ice floating upon it, and bounded on one side by 
high cliffs of glacier, passing from snowy white into the 
deepest blue. An easy scramble of a few minutes brought us 
upon the astonishing Aletsch glacier, said to be the largest in 
the world, a vast highway of ice from a mile to a mile and a 
half wide and many miles long, leading into the very heart of 
the greatest mountains in the Bernese Oberland. After walk 
ing along it with thorough pleasure for two hours we reached 
our stranger night-quarters at a little before 8, but these, and 
also our successful ascent of the Jungfrau next day (which, 
as we have reason to believe, has been ascended by but 
two Englishmen before ourselves), must stand over for my 
next letter. 





August Wi, 1856. 

My dearest Mother My letter to Kate from the ^Eggisch- 
horn told you of no more than the fact of our having got 
up the Jungfrau, and you will naturally be wanting to hear 
more. One great difficulty about the Jungfrau is the distance 
of its only accessible side from any good resting-place. The 
route from Grindelwald is extremely bad, and it is question 
able whether it has ever been accomplished before this year. 
Professor Forbes, Agassiz, Desor, etc., made their great classical 
ascent from the wretched chalets below Marjelen Lake. But 
this year an excellent little hotel has been opened on the 
^Eggischhorn, not much farther off, and the moment I heard 
of its existence from Ames at Interlaken, I made up my mind 
that that must be our starting-point. We found the hotel 
still unfinished ; indeed, when we arrived, there was no glass 
to the windows, but it was put in roughly every night, and we 
enjoyed our quarters extremely. I should mention that the 
Jungfrau had been on our list before leaving England as one 
of the things to be done, if reasonable means could be found 
on the spot. We both were well acquainted with the ascent 
from Forbes account. If you can get hold of his Norway and 
its Glaciers, you will find it in the appendix \ it is very accurate 
and good, but he must have found more difficulties from the 
width of the bergschrunds and from a comparative want of 
snow on the ice of the upper part. I had also read De sor s 
French account of the same ascent, and Studer s German 
account of his own. Thus we knew perfectly well what we 
had before us. Porters were sent on in good time on Friday 
to take fuel and a blanket or two to our night s quarters, and 
prepare them generally. We set out at 3.45 P.M. with our 
two guides carrying provisions and our plaids, and Mr. Brad- 
shaw Smith and his guide, who had not made up his mind 
whether he would go on with us or turn in the morning over 
the Lotschsattel. We had a rough scramble over two shoulders 
of the ^ggischhorn and down to the wonderful little lake of 
Marjelen, which lies between it and the Viescherhorner. But 


I forgot till this moment that I had told Kate of our journey 
up to the night s resting-place. This was in a triangular recess 
of the Faulberg, sloping rapidly down to the glacier. Climb 
ing up some steep rocks on one side of it, we found a place 
where the slanting strata had left a kind of little cave pene 
trating a few feet into the mountain. We perched as best we 
could about the entrance and proceeded to supper. Finding 
before starting that the landlord had provided only cold drinks, 
we had got some tea from him, and, having now lighted a fire, 
proceeded to boil it in a small stew-pan, our only cooking 
vessel, and delicious it was, though without milk. After supper 
we prepared for sleep. I forgot to mention that on the glacier 
we met a young Austrian and his guide. Chapman, an Etonian 
and Trinity man of Calthorpe s x year (I think also a friend of 
his), a capital mountaineer, had the week before made his way 
from Grindelwald to the top of the Jungfrau after considerable 
hardships; and this had stimulated the German to do the 
same with a strong body of guides and porters. At last he 
had succeeded, but had now dismissed all the guides, etc., but 
one to return to Grindelwald, and was proceeding with the 
best to Viesch ; but, night coming on, and his guide being 
ignorant of the Aletsch glacier, he begged to be allowed to 
encamp near us for the night. Of course we gave him the 
benefit of our shelter and some of our provisions, and he 
joined us three gentlemen in occupying the inmost recess of 
the cave, where there was scarcely room for the four to lie 
packed as closely as possible side by side, with the rock 3 
inches from Lightfoot s nose. I do not think any one slept 
well except the Austrian ; I could not sleep at all, and had to 
get up just as I felt symptoms of it coming on. In the middle 
of the night, to our dismay, we heard the pattering of heavy 
rain above the noise of the torrent which supplied us with 
water, and presently for an hour or two a drop descended 
every minute on our helpless upturned cheeks from the not 
too watertight rocks close above them. I had made my light 
little macintosh into a pillow; and with great difficulty I 
unwedged myself so as to sit partly up and put it on after a 
fashion ; but it kept me dry, and the leather case made still 
1 Calthorpe Blofield, a cousin. 

AGE 28 



something of a pillow. We were up soon after 3, drove off 
our cares with a good breakfast, and set off once more at five 
minutes to 4. The rain had long ceased, and the clouds had 
nearly vanished except from the Jungfrau. Mr. Smith had at 
first decided on going with us, but after breakfast called off, 
his guide having, as it afterwards turned out, privately assured 
him that we were quite certain not to reach the top, and that 
the clouds would rest there all day. The Austrian, a silly, 
chattering coxcomb, but obviously a good walker, told us we 
should not have been able to get up if he had not gone 
before, but that his track would now show us the way, and the 
500 steps which his guides had hewed in the ice would save 
us the trouble of doing the same. In reality the printed 
accounts are so accurate that we could scarcely have missed 
the way ; but doubtless our guides were saved some trouble 
by the tracks for some part of the lower ascent ; as for the 
steps, they were too much melted and filled up to be of any 
use to us. Our course lay along the glacier nearly to its head. 
It was now no longer glacier proper, but what is called firn 
or neve> consisting of waves and hillocks of very dry, crusty, 
powdery snow, with extremely few and insignificant crevasses ; 
the ascent was very gradual, but steadily increasing. The 
glacier ends in a col between the Jungfrau and the Monch, 
the former being at the left-hand corner, the latter at the right, 
each sending out a ridge parallel to the glacier. When we 
had passed all the lateral spurs but one of the left-hand ridge 
(called the Kranzberg), we struck off to the left up a constant 
succession of slopes of snow of all degrees of steepness up to 
42, sometimes going straight up, sometimes crossing them 
obliquely up or down or horizontally, and passing in part of 
the way over some rather troublesome rocks. At last at a 
quarter to 1 1 we stood on the Col du Roththal, a high depression 
in the great ridge which separates the Vallais from the Canton 
of Bern, and looked down (or should have done, if the clouds 
had allowed us) into the upper part of the valley of Lauter- 
brunnen ; as it was, we only saw gigantic ghosts of mountains, 
which must have been the Bliimlis Alp and its neighbours. 
Now began the real ascent. The highest peak of the Jung 
frau is a cone or pyramid of rock, sheathed in ice except on 


part of the N. and nearly the whole S. side, where the preci 
pices will not allow snow or ice to hang. We went up from 
the W. or S.W. side nearly in a straight line, with a precipice 
a few feet (not inches, as Forbes seems to have done) on our 
right, and a smooth round surface of snow-covered ice sloping 
steeply away on our left. After 200 or 300 yards every step 
had to be cut with the axe. Of course we had been tied 
together all day, and our progress was slow, partly from the 
cutting and partly from the extreme care which we took in 
planting our feet. Forbes says that he once found the inclina 
tion 48 ; the highest I obtained was 46^, but I believe there 
were steeper parts. A great deal was from 40 to 45, and 
still more from 35 to 40. At last we reached the top of 
the slope, not more than 3 or 4 feet below the actual top of 
the mountain, which was separated from us by a ridge of snow 
much steeper than any church roof I have ever seeri, even 
abroad, and not an inch wide at the top. As the snow was 
soft, however, we were able to walk along (for about 15 feet), 
pressing our feet deeply in on one side and our alpenstocks 
on the other, and so we stood on the top just before i. 
The view was unluckily obstructed in many directions by 
clouds, so that it was difficult to recognize the mountains 
which we did see ; still the sight was a very wonderful one. 
During no part of the day were we actually in cloud ourselves. 
The descent required still more caution than the ascent, and 
for the most part we stepped down backwards ; but as there 
was little cutting to do, it took us only if hour to reach the 
Col du Roththal. Our great difficulty all along was from the 
guides, who did not relish the business, but refused to advise 
us to return, though they used absurd tricks to induce us to 
do so. Had they given us reason to put confidence in them, 
it would have been very wrong to have persevered ; as it was, 
we both feel perfectly assured that we were right in going on. 
We had a rapid and mostly easy descent to the glacier ; but 
there Lightfoot was seized with a quite sudden fit of exhaus 
tion and sickness (arising, I have no doubt, from the thunder), 
and, instead of reaching the yEggischhorn, or Marjelen, or 
even our former cave, we had to drag him a long way to the 
nearest rocks at the foot of the Grimhorn, and there spend a 

AGE 28 



wretched night in cold and wet with very little shelter. Of 
course I surrendered my macintosh and slippers to Lightfoot, 
and he got some sleep. I got very little rest, and no sleep : 
and unluckily there was not a square yard approximately level 
on which to walk up and down and keep oneself warm ; but 
providentially the heavy thunder which came on at dark 
brought hardly any rain. At 4 next morning we set off very 
leisurely, and after several rests got home about u A.M., and 
our good beds soon put us all to rights. I felt scarcely any 
fatigue at all at the time or afterwards. On Monday we 
merely ascended to the top of the ^Eggischhorn for its mag 
nificent view, and on Tuesday walked to Viesch, and charred 
to Brieg. Wednesday we charred to Susten, bussed up to 
Leukerbad, and walked over the Gemmi to Schwarenbach ; 
whence yesterday we ascended the Great Altels, a mountain 
of great height and very rarely ascended, but called easy. It 
happened that there was very little snow on the ice ; so that 
in reality we found it worse than the Jungfrau (though no 
where so steep as that very upright young lady is occasionally), 
and had to cut an immense number of steps ; but we were 
amply repaid by the superb view on every side, the clouds 
being below the mountains till just as we were leaving. In 
the evening we walked down to this place, where we mean to 
stay, if the weather is fine, till Monday, and then cross the 
glaciers of the Wild Strubel to Sierre, reaching Martigny on 
Tuesday. ... I hope to be able to write from St. Gervais or 
Chamonix about Sunday week. 

It is very curious that our ascent of the Jungfrau was one 
of three in one week (the others neither producing nor in any 
way connected with ours), whereas it is believed that no other 
has taken place for many years. 


August \$th and i*jth, 1856. 

. . . Our work for Monday was a glacier pass almost, 
if not quite, unknown to Englishmen, and as far as we 
could learn, hardly ever traversed by others, although it 


has no serious difficulties. Starting about 4.30, we con 
tinued above an hour nearly along the ordinary Gemmi 
route, leaving it just where the precipice descent upon Leuker- 
bad strikes off to the left, and went straight on or slightly 
verging to the right over easy rocks and along the bed of the 
stream till we reached the terminal moraine of the Lammern 
glacier, which we climbed. A few minutes brought us on the 
glacier itself, which was easy at first, but soon became harder 
from its steepness and slipperiness. A little higher up its 
crevasses became much wider and more complicated, and we 
had a good deal of cutting with the axe and leaping. But the 
skill and activity of one of our two guides (Melchior Anderegg) 
enabled us to get along with perfect ease and safety. When 
the glacier became level again, we breakfasted, and I took a 
photograph of the pass before us. The next rise in the glacier 
took nothing but labour up the steep slopes of snow, and then 
after another short level we had a succession of similar slopes 
to the top of the pass, a snowy saddle between the two great 
humps of Wild Strubel. After dining, our guides thought we 
should find it easier to try a lower pass a little to the left, 
which we reached in a very short time. The view from it 
was very extraordinary : 300 or 400 feet below us was 
stretched an enormous plain or very flat basin of dazzling 
firn^ two or three miles wide, the rim being sometimes 
backed with masses of mountain or smaller rocks and some 
times merely snow. Three passes were discernible on the S. 
side ; the farthest, or most western, was the one by which 
Anderegg had descended before, three years ago, but he said 
it was difficult, and wished to try whether the others might 
not be easier. It was at first proposed to make first for the 
nearest, and then, if that should prove ugly on a near inspec 
tion, to go on to the next, which Anderegg agreed with me in 
thinking the most promising; but at last we decided to go 
straight to this one at once. Just before starting we saw a 
herd of six chamois crossing the plain as fast as the snow 
would let them. At that distance they looked to the naked 
eye more like the pictures one sees of ostriches running than 
anything else. We had a tedious and laborious tramp across 
for about ij hour, and then crossing a bank of shale, 

AGE 21 



found ourselves at the steep head of a valley, down which we 
got with great ease on a bit of imperfect glacier, some snow- 
slopes, and screes. Presently we were baffled by finding our 
selves several times on the top of unmanageable precipices, but 
at last we lit on a practicable passage by the side of the main 
stream, and soon reached the upper pastures of the valley, 
from which there was a magnificent view of the Weisshorn, 
the imaginary M. Rosa of most Swiss guides and tourists 
who do not go to Zermatt. I forgot to mention that in 
ascending the glacier and from the first upper pass we had 
extremely beautiful and interesting views from Mt. Blanc to the 
Mt. Leone beyond the Simplon. After a while we left our 
valley, and struck off to the right down awfully hot and dusty 
zig-zags, ending at last among vines, till we reached Sierre at 
about 5. As we wanted a night s rest after our walk of 
i2f hours, and the diligence was to start cruelly early, we 
charred next day to Martigny, and spent the afternoon there. 
When the rain ceased next morning, we set off up the Col de 
Trient, but had our view of the Rhone Valley much spoiled 
by a thick mist in the distance ; but from the top the S.W. 
looked so clear that we decided to go up the Col de Balme, 
and were amply repaid by a magnificent view of Mt. Blanc. 
While my camera and I were struggling with the difficulties 
caused by the wind, Mathison suddenly appeared. He had 
come up from Chamonix with a party of ladies, and was going 
on to St. Gervais in the morning. We therefore gave up our 
idea of proceeding beyond Chamonix that night. . . . That 
evening we had a most extraordinary thunderstorm at Cha 
monix. None of us had ever seen anything at all like it : 
large masses of pale but brilliant orange cloud, throwing the 
most gorgeous golden blaze upon parts of the Glacier des 
Bossons and its clear pinnacles of ice, and on the snowy bases 
of the three great Aiguilles de Chamonix ; while the sharp 
peaks themselves above were quite cold with a ghastly lilac 
blue. Next day Mathison, Lightfoot, and I took a return 
carriage to the Baths of St. Gervais, left it at Ouches to continue 
its route with the luggage, and walked over the Col de Vosa 
to St. Gervais le village, getting magnificent views of the 
Glacier de Bionassai and its peaks by the way. 


When I began this letter I was alone, Lightfoot having 
gone up the Val de Montjoie to cross the Col du Bonhomme 
and see the view from the Col de la Seigne (which I had two 
years ago). But two or three hours after his departure the 
truant Hawkins appeared, along with Davies and Watson. 
They had all ascended the Aiguille du Goute, sleeping two 
nights at the Pavilion on the Col de Vosa, by way of explora 
tion for our further proceedings. We are, however, much 
bothered by the weather in spite of its fineness. For its 
sultriness and other still plainer symptoms threaten stormy 
weather, and it will not do to go among the glaciers again till 
that has blown over. Lightfoot arrived last night (I am now 
writing on Sunday the lyth), so that we make up a strong 
party of five, all fellows of Trinity. This is a very delightful 
spot in spite of its present heat. We are just on the acclivity 
where the mouth of the Val de Montjoie begins to break away 
down into the plain of Sallenches, St. Gervais-les-bains lying 
at the foot of a ravine some hundreds of feet below us. The 
people at the Baths breakfast at n, but we are going to 
have a second service for their benefit ; and, as Davies has 
brought a carpet-bag, and a white tie and black clothes therein, 
we shall carry with us some shadow of respectability. 


September 1st, 1856. 

My dearest Mother Still at St. Gervais, and perhaps for 
some days more. . . . This week has not been idle, but it 
has hardly been satisfactory. One great object of our expedi 
tion this year was to ascend Mt. Blanc from this side. I 
did not tell you before starting, fearing that the name might 
make you uneasy. But we had the best reason to know that 
in reality the ascent does not stand very high on the list of 
glacier excursions for either difficulty or danger. Lightfoot 
and I had all along believed that the Strahleck would be a 
very good test of our powers ; and in May I was told by Mr. 

AGE 28 



Kennedy, one of those who last year for the first time made 
the ascent from this side, that it was child s play compared 
with the Strahleck. The Chamonix regulations, and all the 
charlatanry which reigns there supreme, have made the ascent 
much dreaded. No one is allowed to ascend thence without 
four guides for each person at 100 francs each, besides a 
whole army of porters, all of whom have to be fed (at mountain 
appetites) for two days, so that the expense is said never to 
fall below , 2 S f r each traveller, and sometimes to be higher 
still. To crown the absurdity, you are obliged to take guides 
exactly as they stand on the list without power of choice, so 
that they may happen to be all bad ones. Last year a party of 
Englishmen, not relishing these prices and regulations, got some 
guides at Cormayeur, and for the first time on record ascended 
the mountain from that side. Another party, Kennedy, 
Hudson, etc., resolved to follow their example, but found that 
meanwhile a corps de guides had been formed, who demanded 
le prix de Chamonix^ and intimidated some hunters who were 
otherwise willing to accompany them. Accordingly, being 
stout and practised mountaineers, they resolved to go them 
selves without guides, merely taking porters as far as the top 
of the Col du Geant. They ultimately reached a point within 
two hours of the top with great difficulty, and then were driven 
back by cloudy weather. Having descended to Cormayeur, 
they came round to St. Gervais, secured three chasseurs and 
some porters, and took them as guides to the top of the Dome 
du Goiite. There, the view of the way before them being 
clear, and the chasseurs preferring to receive half pay for that 
part of the ascent to whole pay for the whole, they dismissed 
them, and went their way alone. They wished much to try a 
passage by a ridge to the right past the Bosse du Dromadaire, 
but not having time for experiments, pushed down into the 
Grand Plateau, thereby joining the Chamonix route two or 
three hours from the top, reached the top with ease, and then 
returned by the Chamonix route. Later in the season two 
Irishmen, Darby 1 and Reeves, came here and determined to 
follow their example, but with guides. Darby was taken ill 
almost as soon as they had started, but Reeves made a most 
1 Darley : name indistinct. 


successful ascent, returning to St. Gervais. Our plan was to 
follow their example, pursuing the same route likewise with 
guides. While, however, I was studying the geography 
of Mt. Blanc at Cambridge, I came to the conclusion that 
there was still untried one probably practicable route to the 
summit by ascending the Glacier du Miage (probably from 
Contamines) to the Col du Miage, and then joining the ridge 
thought of by Kennedy s party near the Bosse du Dromadaire. 
My idea was that, if we succeeded by Kennedy s route of the 
Aiguille du Goute, we might try the other (with guides) after 
wards. Curiously enough, on arriving here, I found that some 
of the chasseurs were already full of the idea, having talked to 
Hudson about it last year ; he had promised to come and try 
in 1857, but they had thoughts of trying alone this year. As 
Hawkins, Davies, and Watson had already been up the Aiguille 
du Goute, the whole party were therefore fully disposed to try 
a passage by the Col du Miage first. Accordingly, on the 
afternoon of this day week we set out with four guides and 
three porters, and slept at a chalet high up on the Mont 
Morasset over the valley of Miage. Our bed was hay, and 
one of the guides assured us that we need not be afraid of 
cold, parce que les vaches sont en dessous, et vous en aurez la 
chaleur. There were, in fact, not only vaches but cochons ; 
but we should probably have got to sleep before midnight 
had it not been for one pertinacious vache who carried a bell, 
which she thought it necessary to ring in a vicious manner at 
intervals of a quarter of an hour and though, as Davies said, 
the true hero would have been he who should have z^belled 
the cow, no one was found willing to undertake the feat. 
At 3 we started in the dark, at least with only stars and a 
nearly new moon, which last was soon hid by the mountain 
side. For three hours we scrambled incessantly round ridges 
over rocks, constantly ascending by a very broken but not 
really difficult route, then crossed a piece of glacier, and then 
got on rocks again. At 7 we stopped to breakfast and put 
on our gaiters, descended upon the snow, crossed the head of 
the chief arm of the Glacier du Miage, and began to climb up 
one of the long ridges of rock which reach from the bottom 
nearly to the top. There was not much difficulty, except from 


the fresh snow intermingled with the rocks. We all carried, 
instead of alpenstocks, the haches or piolets of the country, 
consisting of ash-poles 4 to 5 feet long, shod at one end with 
a strong iron point, and at the other with a double iron head, 
a large axe on one side and a long narrow pick on the other. 
These we found very useful whenever there was a tolerably 
large slope of snow, as we could hold on by the pick without 
cutting steps except occasionally. We were getting on famously, 
when the weather changed and a severe snowstorm came on, 
the wind blowing small hail in our faces. It was in vain to 
persevere in the teeth of such an enemy, and about 10 we 
most unwillingly turned round, being then but ten minutes 
(the guides said ; / should have said half an hour) from the 
top of the col. Our only satisfaction was that we had had 
thus far a very interesting excursion on ground never before 
trodden by any but the natives. Having got off the ridge, 
we returned by an easier route straight down the Glacier du 
Miage, all carefully roped together in case of unseen crevasses, 
but without accident. On Thursday Watson set off for Eng 
land, and we were all rather inclined to follow his example, 
when on Wednesday evening a sudden resolution was come to, 
to try again by the Aiguille du Goute (a route already known 
to our not too courageous guides), and not be frightened by 
merely slightly unfavourable weather. Early in the morning 
Octenier, the chief guide, was sent for ; he approved, and went 
in search of the rest, but it was i P.M. before we were off. We 
dined at the Pavilion on the Col de Vosa, climbed along the 
Mont Lachat by a tolerable path, and reached the base of the 
Tete Rousse just at dusk ; but here we were able to take to 
the snow of the Glacier de Bionassai, and so easily ascended 
to a little hut of stones perched among the rocks at the foot 
of the Aiguille du Goute", reaching it at 8.30. A quantity of 
snow had to be cleared out of the inside, but, in trying to 
remove what lay on the scanty roof, the roof itself fell in. 
However, the shelter was good from the wind, and we had 
taken up firewood and blankets, so that after some tea we 
lay down in tolerable comfort, and I got some sleep. At 5 A.M. 
we started, crossed some snow and rocks, and a couloir or very 
steep gully lined with smooth ice (now fortunately covered with 


snow), and climbed a ridge of rocks like that on the Col du 
Miage, but steeper. We got on unusually well, and reached 
the top at 7.20. Here we breakfasted and roped ourselves, 
reached the snowy top of the Aiguille immediately, and then 
made for the Dome du Goute, a huge round hump of snow- 
covered ice, getting peculiarly interesting views on each side 
by the way. As, however, we mounted the Dome, a thick dry 
cloud came on, and then a most keen piercing wind. We 
crossed the shoulder near the top (being not above 500 or 600 
feet below the height of the top of Mt. Blanc), and kept 
moving on to the right for nearly an hour, till the guides told 
us they could not tell where we were for the cloud, and dared 
not descend, not only on account of the crevasses, but because 
there might be danger of having to spend the night in the 
midst of the snow ; nor could we stand still to wait for the 
cloud to melt, lest our hands and feet should be frozen. As 
it was we looked absurd enough, with fringes of icicles hanging 
from our beards and the back of our hair. We had no alter 
native ; so about a quarter to n A.M. we turned and retraced 
our steps all the way. It was now a slower business to descend 
the Aiguille, as the snow had become soft, but we reached the 
bottom at last in broad sunshine, and had the annoyance of 
seeing the top clear above us, and so it has remained ever 


September igth, 1856. 

My dear Ellerton I think I wrote to you last Monday 
fortnight, after we had twice failed to conquer Mt. Blanc, and 
Hawkins and I were waiting, a sadly reduced company, in 
grim expectance to see what better hopes a change of weather 
might bring. Two or three days restored our eyes from their 
inflamed state; but Tuesday was all rain, and Wednesday 
rather threatening. That day Hawkins went over to Cha- 
monix and back, while I scrambled about the forest with no 
particular object. On Thursday we were much tempted to 


send for Octenier, our chief guide, and arrange for an im 
mediate start, but forbore when we saw the glass low, and set 
out for a moderate climb up the Prarion between the Cols de 
Forclaz and Vosa, and then down to the Pavilion on the latter 
pass. Here we were surprised to find Octenier with some 
Chamonix guides. They were going up Mt. Blanc on our 
side with an Englishman, and urged us to join him. This we 
agreed to do, and at once sent down Octenier to St. Gervais 
to fetch more men and some things which we should want on 
the mountain, while we remained at the Pavilion for the rest 
of the day and slept there. At 9 next morning we all set out, 
and had an extremely pleasant day. The rocky ribs of the 
Aiguille de Goute were tolerably free from snow, and we got 
up with great ease, only incommoded by a cold wind. We 
reached the top of the Aiguille at 6.15 P.M., meaning to sleep 
there ; but found the wind on the top so violent and freezing, 
and the only shelter in the rocks so unsheltering, that all 
declared it would be death to lie down for the night. A pro 
posal to push on over the Dome down to the Grand Plateau, 
and so to the hut on the Grands Mulcts, where we might pass 
the night and reascend next morning, after a rapid start, was 
abandoned by the guides for sufficient reasons, and most re 
luctantly we once more set our faces northwards, and pro 
ceeded to scramble down the Aiguille as hard as we could. 
Night was upon us, however, by the time we were two-thirds 
down, and then came the rather ticklish work of traversing 
the great icy couloir (inclined at an angle of 47) and snow 
slopes leading down to it with no light but that of one lantern. 
We were very cautious and took plenty of time, thereby elimi 
nating nearly all the danger. It was past i o when we reached 
the half-ruinous cabam at the foot of the Aiguille where we 
had slept a week before. It was tempting to pass the night 
there and try our luck again next day ; but the overcast sky 
soon caused a general vote for an immediate return to the 
Pavilion at all risks. We despatched a good quantity of 
supper, and then at near 11.30 set out down the Glacier de 
Bionassai, mostly in pairs. The ice was very steep, and we 
were not inclined to waste time on needless caution ; so we 
got down in a very short time by a mixture of all possible in- 


tentional and unintentional motions, of which sliding (of both 
categories) was perhaps the chief. Then came a scrambling, 
stumbling walk, almost run, down the Pierre Ronde, happily 
without injury to ankle or shin. After a little exploratory 
climbing, we struck the path of the Mt. Lachat. Here a 
candle encompassed with paper made believe to give us a little 
more light, as a good part of the winding path lay along the 
edge of rough crags and craggy slopes ; but we did not relax 
our pace. Suddenly we felt a sharp shower of snow and hail ; 
and then pitiless rain, which never ceased. When we had 
left the Mt. Lachat, but one mass of mountain remained, of 
steep sloping grass without rock. Here we failed to find the 
thin path which runs along the side. In the hope of cross 
ing it we made a long traverse nearly vertically downwards for 
a great way, and then another upward ; and then one guide 
after another rushed off in various directions with the lantern 
(the rain had long conquered the candle), while we stood in 
the rain leaning on our axes against the steep incline of the 
hill in such utter darkness that one might have touched the 
other without being seen. But even the rain failed to drown 
the excitement and enjoyment of so novel an expedition, 
though it certainly did somewhat damp the high spirits in 
which we had floundered down the glacier. At last, in despair 
of finding the path, we climbed to the top of the ridge, know 
ing that it must take us right at last, and pursued it till it 
ended in a rough incline of wet juniper, down and through 
which we flopped with some discomfort. At last at a quarter to 
4 A.M. we reached the Pavilion, and after comforting the outer 
and inner man tumbled into bed and slept till a late hour, when 
we rose, breakfasted, and descended ingloriously to St. Gervais 
through the close spungy air. . . . In the afternoon [of Sunday] 
I read prayers in my sole attire, shooting jacket, flannel shirt, 

black tie, beard, etc., and said a few words, looking 

terribly respectable. These words by their coherence, sense, 
adhesion to the text, and charity, reminded me not a little oi 
Cams. On Monday we dillied to Geneva, and slept there. 
On Tuesday we steamed to Morges, railed to Chavornay, 
dillied to Dole, and railed to Paris. ... I was able to reach 
home on Friday evening. 


I have tried to develop four of the photographs with but 
partial success ; and am going to leave the rest to be done at 
Cambridge under William Kingsley s advice ; but I fear few 
of them had sufficiently long exposure. 


HARDWICK, January istandZth, 1857. 

My dear Ellerton You are a bad bad boy to leave me 
without a letter from July to January, and accordingly my first 
letter for the New Year shall be devoted to stirring you up. 
Last term seems to have melted away unawares. Though I 
read incessantly for Coleridge from the day of my return to 
England, very little was actually on paper when I reached 
Cambridge, and so I had hard work for weeks, and at last 
sent off to press without any revision. My allotted space 
was 30 pages, but I could not squeeze into less than 60, and 
so shall have to pay for the paper and printing of the last two 
sheets. This is rather a hard case, but I made the offer, 
preferring that amount of loss to the mutilation of my essay, 
which is already frightfully condensed, little more than written 
in shorthand. Indeed, I had to leave out dozens of things 
that I wished to say, and nearly everything which lies on the 
surface of Coleridge s writings, patent to the whole world. 
However, I hope I have done something towards making 
Coleridge s life intelligible, and putting any thoughtful 
man seriously and honestly troubled with such questions in 
the way of receiving benefit from the workings of Coleridge s 
mind, and that is all that need be wished for. I have not 
written for the public, and shall doubtless be castigated 
accordingly. I hope you have not neglected the other papers 
in the volume. Grote s, Maine s, and Francis are especially 
worth reading. Altogether the company is good, and likely 
to become better, for Trench writes on English Dictionaries 
in our next volume, and Gladstone on Homer and his use in 
education in the next Oxford volume. 

A good piece of the rest of term was taken up in editorial 
work for the. Journal of Philology, and preparing a longish lexico- 


graphical article on limes. 1 There is nothing in the number 
that would interest you, I fear, except an excellent paper of 
Lightfoot s on the Galatians. I was absent for some days at 
Oxford, having gone there to the first anniversary meeting of 
their Working Men s College or rather Educational Institution. 
Its founder, Maskelyne, the Reader in Mineralogy, was in 
Cambridge a little while before on a visit to Vansittart, and he 
was anxious that Cambridge should not be unrepresented, 
especially as Maurice was going down from London. It seemed 
that no one could go but Roby and myself, and so we went. 
I picked up Maurice on the way and had some pleasant talk 
with him in the Great Western. He had been seriously ill, but 
was much better and in good spirits. ... In the evening the 
dinner passed off very well. Maurice s speech was very fairly 
given (from the Morning Post^ I think) in the Guardian. 
Mine happily was spared, unless it has got into some Oxford 
paper ; I have seldom felt more uncomfortable than when I 
sat down. The best speeches, except Maurice s, were Dr. 
Acland s 2 and Spottiswoode s, one of the Queen s printers ; he 
seems to have organized much such institutions among his 
men as the Wilsons have done in their candle factory. It was 
on the whole a severe proceeding five hours and eighteen 

speeches ; poor could not have survived it if he had 

been there, for we had only two small mugs of beer for 
dinner and speeches too. The Oxford institution is much 
more democratic than ours, being got up and managed by the 
men themselves, and five only of the teachers University men, 
and they nothing but teachers ; but apparently no other 
constitution could have succeeded in Oxford; and, by con 
ciliating the whims of the Mayor and Aldermen, they have 
obtained the use of the Guildhall and accompanying rooms 
gratis, which is an enormous advantage. As far as I was able 
to discover, they have hardly ventured to turn rhetorical 
lectures into honest plodding catechetical lessons. That night 

1 Journal of Classical and Sacred Philology , No. ix. p. 350. The 
article is an exhaustive and satisfactory account of the connexion between 
the various meanings of this difficult Latin word, and is interesting for 
personal reasons, because little remains of Hort s work on purely 
classical subjects. 

2 Now Sir Henry Acland. 



Dr. Acland came in to Maskelyne s to see Maurice, and we 
had a most delightful midnight chat. There are few men 
whom I have more wished to know, and few seemingly better 
worth knowing. Next day I went to see the new Museums 
now building from the plans of a new architect, Woodward, 
who seems to be a true genius. I remember the plans being 
spoken of in the Gimrdian, when they were chosen ; and at 
that time they were called Rhenish Gothic, to me a most 
unaccountable name. I should call it nearly pure Veronese 
Gothic of the best and manliest type, in a new and striking 
combination. It can hardly be judged fairly for some months 
to come, but I shall be much surprised if it does not prove to 
be nearly the finest building in England, incomparably the 
finest modern building. The inner quadrangle is surrounded 
with two arcades one over the other, each consisting of a 
series of pairs of arches surrounded with alternate slabs of (I 
think) oolite and very pale old red flagstone ; the arches of 
each pair separated by a polished shaft of marble or serpentine, 
all of different colours, all British, and all presented by friends. 
Between each pair of arches is to be a niche containing a 
statue of some hero of science. Monro is now at work at 
Galileo, etc., and Thomas is to do some others. That day I 
lunched with the George Butlers, and had a delightful talk 
with Mrs. Butler. Goldwin Smith came in, and looked as if 
he could be a good companion, if he chose. I dined at 
Wadham with Maskelyne, and in the evening he had a small 
party, which, was not equal to what I had hoped. My old 
friend Shirley was too busy examining to be able to appear, 
and William Thomson of Queen s and his Greek bride were 
engaged. I received a note from Finder of Trinity entreating 
me to stay till Thursday, as our mutual friend Curtler * was 
coming up next day, and he wanted me to meet him at dinner. 
This was a potent temptation. I breakfasted next day at 
Oriel with Arthur Butler, and had a very pleasant morning, 
walking away afterwards with Conington to his rooms, and 
getting a capital talk with him. He is really a thoroughly 
great and wise man. In the afternoon I had a walk with 

1 Mr. W. H. Curlier was in Hort s year at Rugby, and had a brilliant 
career there. 


Shirley, who likewise showed that he had lost none of his old 
good sense. At dinner at Trinity I met several old Rugby 
contemporaries, besides Finder and Curtler, and also Frederick 
Meyrick (author of The Working of the Church in Spain), 
whom I was very glad to know ; he has a singularly beautiful 
face, and seemingly a corresponding mind. It was alto 
gether a most delightful evening. Curtler, Shirley, and my 
self had sat next to each other without interruption for 
three years and a half before we left Rugby, we were 
exhibitioners together, and I had not seen either of them 
from that time to this. They are now both heads of 
families, but are not a whit changed. So that you can 
imagine what a pleasant evening I had. Next morning I 
breakfasted with Conington. Mark Pattison was there, but 
did not speak at all ; he is a thoughtful-looking man, with the 
thinnest lips I ever saw. After breakfast I went with Maske- 
lyne to the Convocation House and took an ad eundem. I 
was very near taking a very ambiguous degree, for, as I 
entered the Convocation House, I heard the V. C. reading 
out my name as belonging to Trinity College juxta Dublinam ; 
however the mistake was rectified before the more serious 
part of the ceremony was performed. In the middle of the 
day I set off for Cambridge. I should not forget to say that 
Oxford is improving architecturally in various ways. G. G. 
Scott has done a great deal for Exeter, and is building a very 
beautiful chapel for Balliol. Jowett I was sorry not to see, 
but Conington told me it is impossible to get him out. 

I stayed at Cambridge till a couple of days before Christ 
mas, and then went down into Devonshire on a visit to the 
Bullers, whom I met at Venice two years ago. . . . One day 
I walked over (three miles) to Ottery St. Mary, which was very 
interesting to me both as Coleridge s birthplace and for its 
own sake. His odd old father s monument is in the church, 
and there are three families of Coleridges in the neighbourhood, 
including the Justice s. The church itself is a very singular, 
nearly perfect Early English abbey, with one Tudor aisle, and 
an extremely elaborate reredos and other internal work of very 
late frivolous and extravagant Decorated character. The 
church has been excellently restored, chiefly by the Coleridges, 


and has many beautiful points about it, but does not rise 
above English commonplace. In a curious upper vestry we 
found the damp and mouldering remains of what must once 
have been a valuable library, beginning with Erasmus and 
other publications of the early Basle press, and seemingly rich 
in the theology of the Restoration. . . . 

I am just now chiefly occupied about a proposed Cam 
bridge translation 1 of the whole of Plato. Revised editions 
of Davies and Vaughan s Republic, and Wright s Phcedrus, 
Lysis, and Protagoras are to be included ; and the rest will be 
divided between six translators, who are pretty certain to be 
Lightfoot, Joe Mayor, Benson, Montagu Butler, Hawkins, and 
myself. We are getting to work immediately, but shall prob 
ably not begin to print till all or nearly all the MSS. (in 
cluding short introductions and a few necessary notes) are 
ready ; and then publish in eight successive octavo volumes. 
My share (as at present arranged) includes some of the 
stiffest dialogues of all; being the Timceus, Sophista, Par- 
menides, Menexenus, lo, and the spurious Timceus Locrus, 
Sisyphus, Cleitophon, and Definitions. We mean to keep the 
matter quiet just at present, and not to tell even our Cambridge 
friends : when we have made good progress a full prospectus 
is likely to appear. 

Another scheme likely to be carried out, if a publisher can 
be found, is a Cambridge Shakspere, containing the text only 
(at least in the first instance), with all the various readings of 
the quartos and folios, and the chief conjectures of critics, on 
the same page, like a well -edited classical work. This has 
been a favourite idea 2 of mine for several years, and so it has 
been (independently) of Clark ; and he is likely to have the 
main direction of the edition, if it ever comes into existence. . . . 

Vansittart is a pretty constant resident, to the great 
satisfaction of us all, and, I think, of himself; he acts as a kind 

1 W. H. Thompson (afterwards Master of Trinity) was to be asked to 
edit the Cambridge Plato. Ilort worked steadily for some years at his 
share of the scheme ; the Tiniu-its interested him most. The project, 
however, languished, was revived in 1860, and at last reluctantly given up. 

2 The idea was realised in the famous Cambridge Shakspere of 
Mr. W. G. Clark and Mr. Aldis Wright. 


of Cambridge 7r/ooevos of Oxford men. For a wonder he is 
gone this winter to Nice, but returns by the end of the month. 
I shall be curious to know what you think of Bradshaw s 
devotion of his life to the University Library. // is very lucky to 
get him ; but I cannot help thinking that so affectionate and 
genial a creature is thrown away on mere dry bibliography and 
yet more mechanical work. But he seems at present to like it. 

One great pleasure this term has been Trench s visits, 
required by his being University Preacher for November. 
The matter of the sermons was in the main solid and good. 
The first, on John i. i, 8, was peculiarly grand and deep, as 
well as courageous ; but I found no one except Lightfoot to 
enter into it, and it was generally abused and derided as un 
intelligible mysticism. The other sermons, which were much 
more commonplace, were very popular, and restored the 
confidence of many foolish alarmists. But it was in con 
versation that I liked Trench best, especially at Thompson s, 
with whom he was twice staying. He took great pains to 
dispel the notion that his decanal dignity was going to make 
him more of a don, and seemed vastly amused at finding 
himself among what he called the shovelry of England. 
Sometimes, however, he was very grave and silent ; and he 
seems (like Maurice, though partly on different grounds) to be 
oppressed with a fearful foreboding of coming evils, especially 
of an outburst of rampant and aggressive atheism throughout 
Europe. . . . 

I suppose you have seen Maurice s two new books. The 
Mediczval Philosophy is a treat indeed : he improves wonder 
fully as he advances by more and more allowing his authors to 
speak for themselves, and keeping separate his own comments, 
where any are needed. The accounts of St. Anselm, Joannes 
Erigena, Abelard, Duns Scotus, and Roger Bacon are, I 
think, singularly profound and beautiful. The wit and 
elasticity quite remind one of his earliest writings. The St. 
John I have just finished. It is not exactly a striking book, 
but I do not think I have learned so much from any book for 
many years, and that almost solely from its merits as inter 
preting the life of Christ, not as expounding hard sayings of 
the discourses. In this latter respect it is not very successful, 

AGE 28 



and there is throughout a painful swallowing up and oblitera 
tion of subordinate truths that will, I fear, make the book 
repulsive and unintelligible to many who might otherwise 
profit from it : for instance, the language about the Eucharist 
is very unsubstantial and far inferior to what he has said in his 
letter in Fraser. On the other hand, it is a great relief to 
find that his views about resurrection and judgment do not 
lead him to reject a future general Resurrection and Judgment. 
But I feel ashamed of saying a word against a book which 
seems to me of such transcendent value, one that we shall 
read and re-read years after he has gone as at once the most 
helpful of lesson books for daily life and the most pregnant of 
prophecies. . . . 

Now I have written you a tolerably long letter l (though I 
might go on for ever), especially considering that you are in 
my debt. I want to hear from you about all manner of 

things, inter alia about , who by inanity and stateliness 

seemed to me at Cambridge cut out for a Belgrave Square 
head footman. But I did not hear him speak. About public 
matters of all kinds one can say only kismet. It seems to 
me that 1855 opened more cheerfully than 1857. However, 
bona verba. Do write soon and long. Ever yours affection 
ately, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, January $tk, 1857. 

I like your recommending me to read the Plurality 
of Worlds? It robs me of the fancied distinction of having 
been the last man in Trinity to read it, as I did some 
where about a year ago. We shall not differ about its 
merits and interest, though he does pat planets condescend 
ingly, as if they were Newton s head. But I did not need 
conversion, never having been a pluralist, I believe ; at 
least, not as long as I can recollect. When the subject 
was proposed for the Seatonian a year or two ago, I was 

1 Nine sheets of letter paper. 

2 By W. Whewell. 


much tempted to try, for the sake of taking a motto from the 
beginning of Peter Bell, "Such company, I like it not," 
or some of the following stanzas. 

My only doubt about your writing on vo/z,o? and 6 vo/zos 
would arise from the question whether it is wise to treat the 
matter as an isolated phenomenon of a single writer, the usage 
being, as I believe, strictly accurate and grammatical. It is 
really one particular case of the theory of articles and their 
omission, on which I have often thought of writing, especially 
in connexion with the logical question of the quantification of 
the predicate. But more of this when we meet. You have been 
so long about Our Lord s Brethren that you ought to produce 
something soon. Why apologize for writing about yourself? 
Never be ashamed of doing your duty. In the present un 
developed state of clairvoyance how otherwise is it possible 
to tell what one s friends are doing? / have been doing 
scarce anything beyond reading some Timceus. 


HARDWICK, January 6th, 1857. 

... I am very glad to hear that the St. John 1 has sold 
so well. I have still two sermons to read. . . . The book 
disappointed me at first, perhaps because I had a wrong 
craving for rhetoric but I still think he does not sufficiently 
get the steam up in the earlier sermons : they hang heavily, 
and want the fire of the Prophets and Kings. But below the 
surface there are deeper and more enduring (?) qualities, which 
give a peculiar value to the book. I do not think it very 
successful with the body of the discourses, or with most of the 
hard sayings contained in them ; but nothing comes near it in 
its power of showing their relation to the narrative, and inter 
preting the narrative itself. Such a Life of Christ has never 
been written. I cannot tell the number of deep matters, not 
at all directly theological, on which it has incidentally given 
me the truest help. It is at the same time a singular and 
perhaps unconscious justification of Maurice s own method 
and the purpose of his life. 

1 Maurice s edition. 


The year 1856 proved to be the last complete year of 
Hort s Cambridge residence till his return thither in 1872. 
In February 1857 ne became engaged to Miss Fanny 
Dyson Holland, daughter of Mr. Thomas Dyson Hol 
land of Heighington, near Lincoln. Miss Holland s 
family were intimate at Cheltenham with Hort s friends 
the Blunts. A few days after his engagement he was 
presented to the college living of St. Ippolyts-cum- 
Great Wymondley, near Hitchin, and there he settled 
in June with his wife, and entered on a new chapter of 

Of his marriage it is difficult to speak ; the whole 
subject of marriage had been much in his thoughts for 
some time past ; he had studied it, not in relation to 
himself, but as a social problem of supreme importance. 
" For many years," to quote from one of his letters, 
" this particular question has filled a larger place in 
my thoughts than any other, and I have anxiously 
watched everything going on around me which might 
throw light upon it." A series of most careful letters 
too private for publication shows that he had attacked 
the question from all sides with characteristic thorough 
ness and fearlessness. He had reached the conclusion 
that no life of man or woman attains its full purpose 
in the single condition. The highest language in the 
Bible on marriage, as illustrated by the union of Christ 
and His Church, expressed for him the most living 
reality. To him personally, apart from the conclusions 
to which reason seemed to point, it was a necessity of 
his nature to have one nearest to him with whom to 
share his every thought It is no paradox to say that 
this necessity was the natural outcome of his reserve ; 
reserved and sensitive as he was to the highest degree, 
he had always even in college days opened his whole 
VOL. I 2 A 


mind to his one or two intimate friends, and marriage 
afforded him now full satisfaction of the craving which 
had driven him to communicate his thoughts and feel 
ings to Blunt and Ellerton. Without marriage the full 
humanity which endeared him to so many would have 
been incomplete. He deprecated vehemently the idea 
that books were his life ; he preferred to call them his 
tools. " I have never," he once said, " cared much 
for books, except in so far as they might help to quicken 
our sense of the reality of life, and enable us to enter 
into its right and wrong " ; or again, " Such entities as 
scholar, author, clergyman, and the like, are worthless 
and worse for all else except so far as they are rooted 
in the entire man, first of all, and last of all." 

Moreover, his sense of the meaning of home was 
very strong ; he had never forgotten Leopardstown, 
and now, looking forward to his marriage, he speaks of 
" being about to carry on the old home life, the heavenly 
calm of which seems so strangely distant across the 
restlessness of intervening years." His college rooms, 
he said, had been " the best substitute for a home, but 
nothing in any wise like a home." The interest which 
he showed in the smallest details of preparation was 
illustrative of the feeling attached to the change, in 
which nothing was too small to be important. 

The parting from Cambridge was, however, doubt 
less a severe wrench ; his interests in the place had 
grown every year, and he was taking an important 
part in the graduate life of the University. He was 
consulted by all sorts of men on a great variety of 
subjects, and his correspondents had lately come to be 
very numerous. "Your letter," wrote one of them, 
" confirms me in the impression which I had formed, 
that it would be difficult to consult you on any subject 

AGE 21 


that you would not throw light upon." Yet marriage 
and parish work caused no cessation of his many-sided 
activity. Throwing himself with entire devotion into 
every task which his new work laid upon him, he still 
pursued the aims, which as a scholar and thinker at 
Cambridge he had set before himself, with vigour and 
hopefulness quickened by the sympathy with which his 
life had been newly blessed. 


February 2yd y 1857. 

My dear Westcott In spite of the vagueness of my last 
note you will perhaps have been looking for me before this 
time. I may therefore as well say at once that the business 
which has detained me has been of a tolerably engrossing 
character. The result of it is that I am going to be married. 

All particulars I must reserve till we meet ; but it seems 
as if all the perfectness of the one great blessing were coming 
upon me. 

You must not suppose that this change of condition will 
alter my literary plans. On the contrary, I hope to go on with 
the New Testament text more unremittingly at St. Ippollits 
(sic) (which living, near Hitchin, I forgot to say that I have 
taken) than at Cambridge. 



1857-1863. Age 29-35. 

THE village of St. Ippolyts is about two miles from 
Hitchin, lying a little way off the road from Hitchin 
to London. The vicarage has a large garden, and is 
an almost ideal country parsonage. Fortunately a 
careful description of the place and its people by Hort 
himself is extant in a letter 1 to Mr. Gerald Blunt. 

Of society, of course, there was not much, but 
several neighbours became before long intimate friends. 
A few yards from the vicarage lived Mrs. Amos, at a 
house called St, Ibbs, a still further abbreviated form 
of St. Hippolytus name ; she was the kindly squireen 
of the village, and her son, Sheldon Amos, author of 
many works on constitutional and international law, 
was Hort s companion in many afternoon walks, in the 
course of which they discussed at large political and 
philosophical questions. The vicar of Hitchin was 
another ex-fellow of Trinity, the Rev. Lewis Hensley, 
and the rural dean, the Rev. G. Blomfield, became a 
close ally. At Hitchin were Mr. J. H. Tuke, author of 
Irish Distress and its Remedies, and other pamphlets on 
similar subjects, and Mr. Frederick Seebohm, author 

1 See pp. 388-90. 




of The Oxford Reformers, The English Village Com 
munity, etc. Some other neighbours, who, like a 
considerable number of prominent Hitchin people, 
belonged to the Society of Friends, came frequently 
to St. Ippolyts Church to hear Hort preach. When 
the Ladies College was founded at Hitchin, some of the 
students used now and then to come over on Sundays ; 
one of these, Miss Welsh, now Principal of Girton 
College, thus gives her recollections : 

Mr. Hort was still at St. Ippolyts when I entered as a 
student in 1871, and I well remember how, attracted by what 
we heard of him from his former pupils (see vol. ii. p. 57), some 
other students of my own year and myself walked over one 
Sunday in our first term to morning service at St. Ippolyts to 
hear him preach. I can still recall the pleasant walk through 
the Hertfordshire lanes, hung with bramble and wild clematis, 
and the pretty village at the end with its quaint old church, 
and, above all, the delight with which we listened to the first 
of the many sermons we heard within its walls. I cannot 
analyse the characteristics in those sermons which produced 
such an effect, but what I remember best is the impression of 

h extraordinary breadth which his treatment of the text always 
conveyed, and the earnestness of delivery which lent weight 
to every word. It was marvellous to find such a wealth of 
thought, such manifest carefulness of preparation in addresses 
to a village audience. 

At Hitchin and afterwards at Welwyn, six miles 
from St. Ippolyts, lived Mr. C. W. Wilshere, a genial 
and generous neighbour, himself a student of ecclesi 
astical history and antiquities. 

Very soon after his coming into residence two of 
Hort s chief Cambridge friends, George Brimley and 
Daniel Macmillan, were removed by death. The 
memoir of the latter, by Mr. Thomas Hughes, published 
in 1882, bears witness to a noble and affectionate nature. 


He left to his friend as a parting gift among other 
interesting Mauriciana, John Sterling s copy of the 
first volume of the first edition of the Kingdom of 
Christy containing many notes in Sterling s hand. 

The story of Hort s country life is uneventful 
enough. At first it was most peacefully happy, it was 
only by degrees that he became conscious that this was 
not the work for which he was best fitted ; in 1861 he 
expressed to Mr. Westcott his doubts on the subject. 
But he never came to feel that it was in any sense 
unworthy of his powers. When, after fifteen years of 
parochial ministry, he returned to Cambridge and very 
different tasks, he was always distressed if any one spoke 
with the feeling that he had been wasted on a country 
village. The care of his humble parishioners was in 
his eyes a work second in dignity to no other. He 
took up the charge with enthusiasm, and his interest 
in it never abated. The work itself was one for which 
he had definitely been preparing himself for years past ; 
it was that which from his earliest days he had made 
his deliberate choice. His recreations also were just 
what he would have chosen ; he loved the country and 
the simple living ; the garden was his constant delight ; 
it was wild and overgrown when he came, and many 
afternoons were given to felling and pruning, the 
planning of beds, or the stocking of his Swiss corner. 
It had been carefully laid out by his predecessor, Mr. 
Steel, and planted with rare and beautiful trees. But 
Mr. Steel, who was a Harrow master, was often non 
resident, and the place had fallen into neglect. It was 
Hort s great delight to reduce it to order, and preserve 
what he could of the original planting. 

He could not but bring new life with him wherever he 
came ; nothing to him was dull even in the routine of 



vestries, schools, and clubs ; he taught in both week-day 
and Sunday schools ; the Church services under his 
direction began to revive ; the music was among his 
earliest cares, and he took great pains in his preaching 
to bring home to the people the distinctive services of 
the Christian year. To all the details of a country clergy 
man s life he brought a spirit for which conscientiousness 
is too cold a word. The fact remains, however, that in 
the course of years the conviction grew on him that this 
was not his true sphere. His extreme sensitiveness and 
shyness were real hindrances, and he was well aware of 
the fact ; valuing reticence as he did, he lamented that 
freer intercourse was not possible for him. Again, his 
sense of responsibility was almost morbidly acute, the 
delinquencies of the villagers weighed on his mind as 
though caused by negligence of his own. In the 
parochial visits, which he paid to church people and 
Dissenters alike, his manner was most humble and 
tender, but he felt all along unable to speak to the 
people as he longed to do. He was and is regarded 
by them with reverent affection, but they must have 
felt, as he did, the barrier of his reserve. It would be 
most unjust to them to say that they did not appreciate 
him ; if words were few, there was no mistaking the 
man s life. It was long after his departure before he 
revisited the parish, though he was frequently asked to 
do so ; he shrank from going, from an ever-present 
feeling that he had failed there, that he had not done 
all that he aspired to do for his flock. When at length, 
after many years, he appeared one day in the church 
for a wedding, it was touching to see the hands of the 
villagers outstretched from every pew, and to hear the 
frequent appeal, " Don t you remember me, sir ? I was 
so-and-so," greet him as he passed down the aisle. 


It was in the production of sermons that the 
difficulty of finding expression for his thoughts was 
most felt. It seemed as though the message which he 
longed to give lay too deep in his own heart to be 
uttered abroad. The difficulty was also doubtless of 
physical origin. The subject of a sermon was generally 
chosen early in the week. It was thought over per 
petually, and towards the end of the week he began to 
write ; but he had hardly ever finished before the early 
hours of Sunday morning, and he would often sit hour 
after hour, pen in hand, but apparently dumb, till the 
words came at last, sometimes in a rush. Extreme 
fastidiousness was in part the cause of this remarkable 
aphasia, a habit of mind which, while it secured that 
nothing from his hand should see the light which he 
might afterwards wish to recall, yet deprived his hearers 
of much which they would have welcomed, even in what 
he considered an imperfect shape, since the perfection 
at which he aimed was always indefinitely beyond his 
present achievement. But it would be easy to exaggerate 
the importance of this fastidiousness ; at all events the 
peculiarity was more moral than intellectual, the sense 
of responsibility was almost crushing. Nor did the 
difficulty decrease with time ; he had always felt it, 
and he came to feel it not less but more as time went 
on, and the greater the occasion the more terrible 
became the struggle to put his thought into words. A 
notable instance of this was a sermon which he preached 
at Cambridge after Maurice s death ; this nearly caused 
a serious illness. His last and most painful effort of 
the kind was the sermon preached in Westminster Abbey 
at the consecration of Dr. Westcottas Bishop of Durham. 1 
In the case of village sermons there was the added 

1 See vol. ii. pp. 371-4. 


difficulty of making himself plain enough for his con 
gregation ; this, however, he undoubtedly in great 
measure overcame. His village sermons show the 
same depth and concentration of thought which mark 
all his writings ; yet the style is wonderfully simple, 
and there is no trace of the terrible strain of com 
position. The simplicity of these discourses is the 
more remarkable for the absence of any visible attempt 
at talking down to an uneducated audience. But it 
is the simplest writing which taxes most severely the 
writer who has something to say, and one to whom all 
expression was difficult found this, which to many is 
hardly an effort, the most exacting work of a clergy 
man s life ; the writing of sermons was to him at St. 
Ippolyts and elsewhere accomplished only at a cost 
ruinous to nerve and brain. 

The principal literary work of these years was the 
revision of the Greek text of the New Testament. All 
spare hours of every day were devoted to it; occasionally 
Mr. Westcott came down for a few days visit in the 
intervals between Harrow terms, when the two worked 
together for several hours continuously every day. A 
welcome variety of work was afforded by the Cam 
bridge Plato (see p. 349). 

Hort had left Cambridge at an exciting time ; the 
revision of college statutes had begun, and University 
Reform was in the air. At Trinity among the most 
earnest reformers was Hort s friend the Rev. J. LI. 
Davies ; the views upheld by the party of which Mr. 
Davies, Mr. Westlake, and Mr. Vaughan were the chief 
spokesmen were vigorously assailed by Hort in a 
privately -printed letter, which is interesting in many 
ways, not least because this attempt to state the case of 
the opponents of change comes from a rather unexpected 


quarter, from one who described himself as a man 
" whom his worst enemy cannot accuse of aversion to 
reform." The arguments, however, as might be 
imagined, were hardly such as were current among the 
majority of University Conservatives. In University 
politics Hort was always reckoned a Liberal ; to what 
extent the opinions maintained in this pamphlet re 
mained part of his maturer convictions I am unable to 
say, but, when the new regime was established, he 
certainly gave it his loyal support. This, however, was 
not the only occasion on which he found himself hostile 
to reformers in the interests of what he considered true 

Towards University reform he once fairly defined 
his attitude as follows : " I cannot wonder that the 
prospect is alarming even to high-minded and open- 
minded Churchmen. They see this University movement 
caught up by the passion for trying exciting experi 
ments on the largest scale which has lately seized upon 
our sport-loving people. Aware that old and respect 
able abuses need rough handling, and acknowledging 
the timely wisdom of heroic medicine, they cannot 
welcome violence which gives no better account of itself 
than the necessity of doing something strong." 

The title of the pamphlet is, A Letter to the Rev. 
J. LI. Davies on the Tenure of Fellowships, and on 
Church Patronage in Trinity College ; it is twenty- 
eight octavo pages long, and is divided into three 
sections, headed The Condition of Celibacy/ The 
Condition of Holy Orders/ and College Livings. 
On the marriage question one of the chief contentions 
of the advocates of the proposed change was the 
difficulty under celibate conditions of retaining com 
petent lecturers ; to this Hort replied " that the loss of 



good experienced lecturers was compensated by the 


freshness of young lecturers " (" routine," he said, 
a much worse evil than the possible awkwardness of a 
novice "), and by " the teaching and influence of many 
private tutors " : if, however, more was required, an 
inducement to residence might be provided " by dividing 
the tutorships in Trinity." But the greatest strength 
of his attack lay in his recognition of the value 
of temporary celibacy ; for permanent celibacy, or 
perpetual vows of any kind, he had nothing to say ; 
recognising, as he had good reason to do, marriage as 
the " greatest of human blessings," he yet believed that 
between boyhood and marriage a period of temporary 
and voluntarily imposed celibacy was of the greatest 
advantage, at least to University men ; and he could 
see no reason why a small percentage of the community 
should not be made to defer marriage to an age which, 
after all, would in most cases not be very late, earlier 
probably than that fixed by Aristotle (thirty-seven) as 
the best for entering on the marriage state. " I have 
in view," he said, " a body of fellows, some of whom are 
tutors and assistant-tutors, shading off imperceptibly 
through the Bachelor scholars downwards to the 
youngest freshman, carrying on a manifold work of 
education on themselves and on undergraduates, partly 
by instruction, partly by society." He had a very 
great belief in college feeling, and thought that it 
was on the increase in Trinity rather than the reverse ; 
in fact he valued the informal unofficial part of the educa 
tion obtained by residence in a college above the routine 
of lectures and examinations. And he thought that by 
the abolition of the requirement of temporary celibacy 
the younger fellows would inevitably desert college life 
for family life ; nor could he persuade himself that the 


society of ladies was, as was sometimes argued, a 
necessary humanising influence to the undergraduates ; 
even under existing conditions the latter were debarred 
from ladies society for only a small part of the year. 
He had himself experienced the good of graduate 
residence, and was disposed to be rather angry with 
those who did not seize such an opportunity of useful 
ness to themselves and the college ; he could hardly 
believe such persons competent to judge the present 
question on its merits ; " those who leave the University 
at an early stage soon lose their youthful prejudices 
touching life in general, but have little or nothing to 
correct their prejudices about college matters ; nay, 
perhaps the new prejudices which they may acquire 
become impediments to a truer view. There is such a 
thing as hardening in inexperience." It is perhaps 
right to add that Mr. Davies did not consider his party s 
views fairly stated by Hort. 

The controversy has long been settled, and it is of 
little use to revive ancient polemics for their own sake ; 
but these reflections on the ideal of collegiate life seem 
to have lasting value. Even more valuable are some 
of the thoughts expressed in this forgotten brochure on 
the ideal of the ministry of the English Church. 
Though not opposed to a slight increase in the number 
of lay fellows, Hort defended the principle of the old 
clerical system on the ground that the education of 
the sons of English gentlemen ought mainly to be in 
the hands of clergymen. The common sense of the 
English laity would, he felt sure, be strong enough to 
prevent such a system from ever acquiring a Jesuitical 
character. As to the evil effects of the change on the 
clergy themselves he felt still more strongly. The 
most emphatic part of the pamphlet is an eloquent 



protest against the doctrine that the cure of souls is 
the distinctive and exclusive work of a clergyman. 
His declaration on this subject powerfully emphasises 
truths which are at least as liable to be forgotten in 
1896 as in 1857, and must be quoted entire. 

... In all periods of English history a clergyman has 
been felt to be ex officio a teacher or educator. This feeling 
is now called secular, and we are required to believe that the 
routine of parochial work is the only employment worthy of 
one called to holy orders. By implication every master of a 
school or tutor of a college is accused of violation of his 
ordination vows. The doctrine has grown up parallel with, 
and partly in consequence of the wider and more zealous view 
taken of parochial ministrations, for which we must all be 
thankful. But it is at least equally due to another dictum of 
* the public conscience, of the most pestilent kind, that it is 
the clergyman s exclusive business to prepare men for the 
future life, as the schoolmaster s for the present life. Such 
an interpretation of the cure for souls follows naturally from 
the degradation of theology. That intelligent laymen should 
support it is a strange and mournful fact, since the next or 
next but one step is to * direction, and all that the public 
conscience associates with Jesuitry. Against every such 
heresy every devout and conscientious clergyman engaged in 
tuition, especially college tuition, is a standing protest, and the 
maintenance of a large body of such clergymen reacts upon 
the whole English clergy with an influence which, if not great, 
is at least greater than we can afford to lose. Further, breadth 
of teaching implies breadth of study. The existence of a 
clerical body at the University, drinking freely of all divine 
and human learning, is a standing and not unneeded en 
couragement to every hard-working curate who rescues a few 
hours for science, or history, or poetry, or philosophy as well 
as theology, to believe that he is not robbing his flock of their 
due, or breaking his vow to " be diligent in such studies as 
help to the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures," since practical 
knowledge of the Scriptures implies knowledge of the creatures 
and circumstances to which they have to be applied. 


Theology itself is no less indebted to the residence of 
clergymen at college, and that in two superficially opposite 
ways. Perhaps the greatest enemy to theology just now is 
popular zeal for its supposed purity. Nothing can be more 
contemptible or more injurious to sound faith than the 
behaviour of the religious world to criticism and science, now 
shunning and denouncing them, now caressing and patronising 
them, always trembling in vague apprehension of some un 
known destruction of which they may some time be the agents. 
The Universities are looked upon with a suspicion which may 
soon become bitter hatred, because they are felt to be asylums 
where the utmost freedom of criticism and science finds a 
refuge and even a welcome, and where the engines of the 
modern style of persecution are comparatively powerless. I 
am too warmly interested on behalf of both criticism and 
science to be indifferent to the valuable standing-ground which 
they thus obtain, but I rejoice still more in the benefits to 
theology. In such a neighbourhood theological thought is 
compelled to increased depth and truthfulness. The science 
of the most universal and eternal verities is driven back from 
its tendency to become a science of names and entia rationis. 
I do not mean that all the clergymen in the University are 
free from the popular terror, though it is remarkable to see how 
little and yearly less hold it has upon men who elsewhere 
would certainly have yielded to it entirely. But it is worth 
notice that, when a timid theological vote of the senate is 
desired, its friends are obliged to summon their faithful followers 
from the neighbouring parsonages. 

Will these advantages be less, you may ask, if the resident 
body consists chiefly of laymen ? As regards the interests of 
science and perhaps criticism, I hardly know. Much in the 
ecclesiastical history of the last few years suggests an impression 
that a section of the laity are greater enemies to freedom of 
thought than the clergy or any section of them. At all events 
science can go its way elsewhere, without heeding what may 
be said of it. But theology will certainly suffer by being 
deprived of the wholesome association of which I have already 
spoken. The extent of the injury can by no means be rightly 
measured by the amount of theology actually proceeding from 



residents. Salutary influences received at Cambridge cannot 
altogether lose their power when residence has ceased. In 
this and in other indirect ways the Universities act upon the 
whole Church. 

But there is another equally important benefit conferred on 
theology by clerical residence. Anxiety to secure complete 
freedom for both theology and other studies acting, or supposed 
to act upon it, leads rightly to an equal anxiety for its sound 
ness and security. There are many who hate the existence of 
science and criticism chiefly as means of shattering our 
supposed cloudy fabric. By all means let them try ; we shall 
be the better, not the worse, for the attempt. But in abandon 
ing the negative and now suicidal method of repelling heresy 
by means of anathemas, suspensions, and the like, we are 
bound all the more to labour for the positive strength and 
fulness of orthodoxy. In this respect the clerical residents are 
surely of the greatest service. Every influence of the place 
counteracts the tendency to make popular opinion the standard 
of orthodoxy. At Cambridge those who have sworn, as we 
have done, to "set theology before us as the end of our 
studies," and to "prefer things true to things accustomed, 
things written to things unwritten in matters of religion," soon 
learn to find their best protection against theological tyranny 
in our sacred books and creeds, and in the genuine harmony 
of the voice of the Church in all ages. Above all, the lovers 
of antiquity and the lovers of speculation or criticism come to 
a better understanding of each other, and are led to recognise 
the mutual need of true permanence and true progress. 

The same liberal spirit is shown in his words on the 
" invisible pre-eminence of theology at Cambridge under 
the old system." It was, he said, "an omnipresent 
element felt rather than seen." In passing he criticises 
severely recent legislation of a specialising tendency, 
such as the establishment of a Theological Tripos, by 
which theology " is exposed to the danger of assuming 
a narrow and technical character." " A body of fellows," 
he continues, " bound to the study of theology is needed 


as a counterpoise to the influence of the Theological 
Tripos as much as for other purposes." 

Finally, he boldly defends the existing system of 
college patronage of livings as the " best possible " ; in 
spite of occasional anomalies and evils arising therefrom, 
" nothing can outweigh the benefit of keeping up a 
multiformity of types among English clergymen, and 
thus helping to save them from the curse of becoming 
a separate caste." 

The writer himself acknowledges at the end of his 
pamphlet that " the picture here sketched . . . cannot 
be taken to represent the actual state of things without 
considerable qualification " ; he was conscious that such 
a system requires a high standard of duty among those 
who are to work it ; but he thought that even this 
consideration was in its favour, since his desire was to 
rely on men rather than on machinery. The pamphlet 
concludes with a protest against subservience to public 
opinion in questions of University reform : " A college 
like ours is then exercising its most proper function 
when it is counteracting the prevalent fallacies of the 
day. We ought to be the refuge for forgotten and 
unpopular aspects of truth." 

It could not be expected that this letter would be 
received with much favour among Hort s Liberal friends. 
He was, however, gratified to receive from the Master of 
Trinity (Dr. Whewell) a hearty and pleasant letter of 
thanks for it ; and at Oxford it was welcomed by 
Conington : Mr. Westlake wrote a rejoinder. 

Among the parochialia which engrossed a principal 
share of attention during the early years at St. Ippolyts, 
Church music was specially prominent. Hort had had 
no formal musical education, but his ear was good, and 
he had very decided preferences in music ; he went 



occasionally to concerts in London (and afterwards at 
Cambridge) as a rare treat, and most enjoyed classical 
music of a not very modern type. The barrel-organ in 
St. Ippolyts Church was an offence which he could not 
long tolerate, and he took endless trouble in the selection 
of chants and hymn-tunes, to say nothing of the hymns 
themselves, at a time when the materials for selection 
were scanty and inaccessible : both chants and hymns 
were daring innovations. He introduced the Church 
Hymnal^ a book little known at the time. His work 
in this field entailed a great deal of correspondence with 
Ellerton, who about this time began to make hymnology 
his special province : his Hymns for Schools and Bible- 
Classes appeared in 1859, an d contained four transla 
tions from Hort s pen, of the ancient Candle-light 
Hymn of the Alexandrian Church, of a Latin Epi 
phany hymn ( The Lord of heaven hath stooped to 
earth ), of Martin Ruickart s Nun danket ( All 
praise to God alone, Heart, voice and hands shall 
render ), and the Easter hymn beginning, Now 
dawning glows the day of days. Hort also gave 
substantial help to Ellerton and the other compilers of 
Cliurch Hymns, to which collection he contributed the 
translation beginning, * Thou Glory of Thy chosen 
race, and the Easter hymn above mentioned. 1 

At the end of 1857 the Alpine Club was started. 
A sketch of its beginnings was given by Mr. W. Long 
man in the Alpine Journal for February 1878, which 
sketch was completed by a paper of Hort s in the 
August number of that year, the only number to which 
he contributed. From this paper it appears that the 
idea of the Club was first mooted in a letter from Mr. 
W. Mathews to Hort, written February I st, 1857: "I 

1 See Appendix I. 
VOL. I 2 B 


want you to consider," he says, " whether it would not 
be possible to establish an Alpine Club, the members of 
which might dine together once a year, say in London, 
and give each other what information they could. Each 
member, at the close of any Alpine tour in Switzerland 
or elsewhere, should be required to furnish to the 
President a short account of all the undescribed ex 
cursions he had made, with a view to the publication of 
an annual or bi-annual volume. We should thus get a 
good deal of useful information in a form available to 
the members. Alpine tourists now want to know the 
particulars of the following courses, which I believe have 
been recently made, Finsteraarhorn, Jungfrau from 
Grindelwald, Altels, Galenstock, Dom, Weishorn, Zinal 
Pass, Crete a Collon, and many others." The formation 
of a Club was resolved on at an informal meeting of 
Cambridge men, held November 6th, 1857, and Mr. 
E. S. Kennedy undertook the necessary correspondence. 
In answer to his invitation Hort wrote on December 
ist, criticising some of the proposed rules and suggesting 
names. He was anxious to minimise the expenses, 
especially those of dining ; his criticisms were the out 
come of a conversation with Mr. Vaughan Hawkins ; 
he also conferred shortly afterwards with Lightfoot. 
It is interesting to note that he suggested Mr. John 
Ball as a likely member. The first dinner of the Club 
was held on February 2nd, 1858: Hort was, to his 
regret, unable to be present ; his name occurs on the 
back of the circular of invitation in the list of original 
members, which also included his friends Messrs. Light- 
foot, Vaughan Hawkins, J. LI. Davies, and H. W. 
Watson. He remained a member all his life, but 
never held any official position in the Club. Another 
of the original members, Mr. G. V. Yool, wrote an 



obituary notice of Hort in the Alpine Journal for 
February 1893. 

After about two years of parish work it became 
painfully obvious that some extra effort must be made 
to relieve the res angusta domi which, in spite of rigid 
economy, began to be a serious anxiety. It was not a 
time when additional labour could be welcome ; the 
overstrain of Cambridge years had already begun to 
tell, though the breakdown did not come at once. But, 
in spite of difficulties, some fresh work was inevitable ; 
the literary projects already in hand could not be 
expected to bring grist to the mill for a long time to 
come ; meanwhile he determined to put his hand to 
something which, it might reasonably be hoped, would 
bring in quick profits. Thus it came about that more 
writing was undertaken in the shape of some original 
work in English History. But Hort required too much 
of himself: after considerable research in what proved 
to be a most interesting field, the only visible result was a 
fragment on the Last Days of Simon de Montfort^ which 
appeared in Macmittaris Magazine for June 1864. The 
unused materials were handed over to Dr. Luard and to 
Mr. G. W. Prothero. Simon de Montfort was to have 
been one of a series of historical biographies for boys, 
but the work grew to larger proportions under the 
historian s hand. Mr. Macmillan soon observed that 
Hort s contribution to the series was likely "to grow 
into a man s book." Besides de Montfort he was to 
have written on Grossetete, and perhaps Wycliffe ; he 
consulted an immense number of authorities, causing 
his publisher some alarm by the length of his disquisi 
tions on minute points. 

Another piece of literary work alluded to in the 
letters of these years was a share in the Biblical Com- 


mentary projected by Dr. William Smith ; Hort s 
portion was to be the Gospels, Wisdom, and Ecclesi- 
asticus. The project was eventually dropped, and its 
place for Hort was taken by a new scheme for a 
Commentary, to be divided between himself, Mr. West- 
cott, and Lightfoot. This, though abandoned as a 
formally common work, was never lost sight of, and 
out of it grew various subordinate undertakings. Hort 
worked at his own share year after year, and dreamed 
of the completion for which many others hoped ; but, 
strangely enough, it is only now after his death that the 
world has an opportunity of judging what he had pro 
duced to set alongside of the masterpieces of his 
collaborators, the two successive Bishops of Durham. 
A letter to Lightfoot, dated April 29th, 1860, suggests 
the following apportionment : Lightfoot, the Pauline 
writings and Epistle to the Hebrews ; Westcott, the 
Johannine writings ; Hort, the historico-Judaic writings 
(the Synoptists, St. James, St. Peter, and St. Jude). 

A passing mention must be given to yet another 
unfulfilled project, a non-party quarterly review, to 
which Hort promised to contribute, as well as Mr. 
Thomas Hughes and others whose names were closely 
associated with the firm of Messrs. Macmillan. Mr. 
Hughes was to have been the editor. The articles 
were to be signed. Maurice gave the scheme the 
following characteristic encouragement : " The ruling 
idea should be the idea of civilisation, and all that 
tends to it, the idea which informed Plato when he 
wrote the Republic, and which was in St. Paul s mind 
when he said we seek a city. " This idea was to be 
indicated by the title The Citizen. The Citizen never 
reached even its first number ; publication was at first 
deferred for a time, and then for good. 


Mr. Alexander Macmillan also suggested to Hort 
an English version of Winer s New Testament Grammar, 
at which he could work, without much extra labour, 
along with the Greek Testament text. He gladly 
welcomed the suggestion, and intended to make the 
book more than a translation. It occupied him for a 
considerable time, but was given up finally when Dr. 
Moulton s book l appeared. 

Yet another book must be added to the list of 
unfinished designs ; it does not appear, however, that it 
was ever seriously begun. This was " a short but very 
readable and, if possible, vivid Church History of the 
Ante-Nicene centuries (including a life of Christ), using 
as far as possible the works of the original records." 
Six popular and comparatively slight lectures on the 
Ante-Nicene Fathers, delivered many years later at 
Cambridge, were the only fulfilment of this scheme. 

It is sad work cataloguing books which never were 
written, especially when the failure was due to no 
falling off in their author s vigour and enthusiasm. 
Yet the labour so bestowed was not lost ; it survives, 
where the worker was well content that it should, in 
the finished works which others have been able to 
accomplish. Nor is the record after all one only of 
half- accomplishment. While various other tasks in 
vited, they never distracted him from that which was 
to prove the chief complete work of his life, the revision 
of the text of the Greek Testament. At one time he 
thought of adding to it a translation ; in this he in 
tended to insert " many notes of interrogation, or other 
marks of uncertainty of interpretation as well as of 
reading." This purpose was, of course, superseded by 
the work of the Revision Committee formed in 1870. 
1 See vol. ii. pp. 134-5. 


The Greek Text itself had proved a much slower work 
than had been anticipated ; but this was not a matter 
for regret, as the delay gave opportunity for using the 
fresh light supplied by the work of Tregelles and of 
Tischendorf. Hort had been for some time in corre 
spondence with the former. He had communicated to 
him his own and Mr. Westcott s scheme in 1857, and 
had received from him hearty approval and promises 
of help. Dr. Tregelles own First Part appeared in 
July of that year, and was reviewed by Hort, along with 
part of Tischendorf s seventh edition in the Journal of 
Classical and Sacred Philology, vol. iv. No. xi. This 
and other reviews by Hort in the same Journal (1855- 
1860) of the work of Tregelles, Tischendorf, and 
Scrivener are important as showing how the principles 
of his own edition were developing in his mind. The 
readings of the Codex Sinaiticus became accessible in 
1863. It was in 1859 that Hort and his collaborator 
adopted the plan of doing their work by correspond 
ence, each working out separately his own results, and 
then submitting them to the other s judgment. 

For one who like Hort combined with his devotion 
to theology an ever-fresh enthusiasm for science and 
criticism, the year 1860, in which fell the controversies 
aroused by the publication of the Origin of Species and 
of Essays and Reviews, was to a very high degree 
exciting. Discussion of these two books fills a large 
part of his letters for some months, and on the subjects 
of both he burned to speak openly; yet here again 
eventually speech failed him. He had been invited to 
co-operate in Essays and Reviews, but declined in a 
very interesting letter to Dr. Rowland Williams. He 
contributed four years later to the Record^ a vigorous 

1 Record, April 27th, 1864. 



answer to an attack on Dr. Jowett s Greek scholarship, 
which he believed would never have been assailed 
" by any scholar worthy of the name in the absence 
of theological causes of difference." The immediate 
occasion of the attack was the controversy at Oxford 
over the endowment of the Greek Professorship, in 
which Professor Jowett s contribution to Essays and 
Reviews was brought up against him, and his oppo 
nents found fault with his scholarship, quoting in 
support of their criticisms some remarks by Lightfoot 
and Hort in the Journal of Philology ; the former 
directly, in a review of Stanley s and Jowett s editions 
of St. Paul s Epistles, the latter in an answer to a 
contributor s defence of a lax rendering of Greek tenses, 
had criticised the Oxford Professor s methods of trans 
lation. But, when his authority was quoted against 
Jowett, Hort, with Lightfoot s full concurrence, ex 
plained that they had been criticising, not ignorance, 
but what seemed to them erroneous opinions ; and 
that in fact these opinions as to the rendering of New 
Testament Greek were not peculiar to Professor Jowett, 
but belonged to the interpretative method which was 
generally in use in England till very lately, while 
the stricter method now coming into vogue was due 
almost entirely to Germany. Otherwise Hort took 
no public part in the controversies which arose directly 
or indirectly out of Essays and Reviews. All that he 
actually wrote on the subject apparently was a criticism 
of Mark Pattison s essay, which the latter declared to 
be very valuable, regretting that he had not seen it 
before the publication of the volume. Hort con 
sidered the tracts on Essays and Reviews issued by 
Maurice and Mr. T. Hughes inadequate, and he 
deplored the * smartness of Stanley s famous Edin- 


burgh Review article. A joint volume of essays in 
reply to the book was meditated by Hort, Lightfoot, 
and Mr. Westcott, but came to nothing. When it was 
abandoned, Hort contemplated writing himself an essay 
called Doctrine, Human and Divine, but this too 
remained an unaccomplished task. Such an essay, 
however, he continued to think about for a long time. 
His Hulsean Lectures delivered in 1871, and published 
at length in 1893, were in some sense a realisation of 
this long-cherished hope. 

At the end of 1859 he had been obliged to leave 
his parish by a breakdown in health. A water-cure at 
Malvern was the partially successful remedy ; but it 
was necessary for the next two years to take a long 
summer outing. He was abroad with his wife from 
May to October 1860, gradually rising from sub- 
alpine places such as Les Avants and Villard to the 
highest accessible habitation. A whole month was 
spent at the little Riffelberg Hotel, now superseded for 
most English visitors by the more luxurious Riffelalp. 
After this they crossed the main chain by the S. 
Theodule Pass, and made a tour of the south side of 
Monte Rosa, following in the steps of Mr. and Mrs. 
King of the Italian Valleys of the Alps. Unluckily 
it was a wet season, and an otherwise most enjoyable 
tour was somewhat spoiled. The last perch of this 
season was the ^ggischhorn. He pursued the botany 
of these regions with keen delight, and a very large 
Swiss hortus siccus was the result of the rambles of this 
and subsequent Alpine summers, when hard walking was 
out of the question. In planning such tours he always 
endeavoured, if possible, to get to some almost unknown 
spot, which at that time was still feasible. His know 
ledge of the topography of most of the Alps was very 


minute. In 1861 he was again abroad with his wife 
from June to September, first in the Engadine, at Pont- 
resina, then little known, and over the Bernina to the 
Baths of S. Catarina, so sympathetically described in 
Mr. Leslie Stephen s The Playground of Europe ; then 
to the top of the Stelvio for a fortnight in the very 
roughest of inns, and finally in the Dolomite region 
near Botzen, where a rich harvest of new plants was 

Mr. Yool s obituary notice in the Alpine Journal for 
February 1893 mentions that Hort "was one of the 
first to recognise the value of the mountain hotels, then 
very primitive, as health resorts." In this connexion 
it is curious at this date to read some of his notes, e.g. 
" Pontresina, Hotel Krone ; homely, but very clean and 
comfortable ; . . . beer excellent." 

" Bormio, Hotel Poste ; did not seem bad, but we 
did not sleep there. 

" S. Maria, near top of Stelvio ; floors dirty, and 
food monotonous ; not otherwise bad." 

Botany was of course a great resource in these years, 
when mountaineering was no longer possible. He also 
amused himself with making careful pen - and - ink 
sketches, which had at least a scientific value ; his 
drawings of the Ortler group, done in 1861, were found 
extremely useful by Mr. F. F. Tuckett in his prepara 
tion of a paper for the Alpine Journal on the topo 
graphy of that region. 

Both of these summers did immense good, but they 
were not sufficient to restore his exhausted powers. 

The effect on his nerves of glacier air was always 
very remarkable; in 1860, when he was thoroughly 
exhausted, and a breakdown was imminent, an excur 
sion up the Cima di Jazzi from the Riffelberg had 


almost miraculous results. He even had the hardihood 
to bathe frequently in glacier streams. While staying 
at the Riffelberg, he had taken some observations with 
thermometers in the Zermatt region for Mr. John Ball, 
to whose Alpine Guide he contributed botanical and 
other notes ; many of these were inserted over the 
initials F. J. H. Hort was one of the very few who 
helped in all three of Mr. Ball s volumes (Western 
Alps, 1863 ; Central Alps, 1864 ; Eastern Alps, 1868). 
The best known of these notes is his description in 
Central Alps of his passage of the Lammerenjoch in 

From the letters written in this period one would 
hardly guess that there had been any failure. Keen 
talk on his various literary ventures, the New Testa 
ment Commentary, Plato, Darwin, Essays and Reviews, 
fills many sheets. In 1860 his duty was taken by 
Mark Pattison. He returned to work in the autumn 
of 1 86 1, but was not fit for it, and the next year 
the collapse was complete. He now for the first 
time realised the gravity of his condition. He put 
himself under a London physician, Mr. Seymour 
Haden, who advised him to give up parish work for 
three years ; meanwhile he was to live quietly with 
his parents (who in 1862 moved from Chepstow to 
Eckington House, Cheltenham), and a long summer in 
each year was to be spent in the high Alps. The 
medical verdict was a severe blow, yet it was hoped 
that complete recovery was possible, and that without 
medicine, by a carefully regulated life. There was no 
organic disease, but a thorough enfeeblement of brain 
and spine, from which came other secondary disorders 
connected with circulation. The principal cause he 
believed to be the late hours which he had kept at 


Cambridge. At first an attempt was made to do with 
less complete immunity from parish work than the 
doctor had enjoined. In June 1862 he so far obeyed 
orders as to leave St. Ippolyts for five months. He 
went to his parents new home at Cheltenham, where 
his eldest child, a daughter, was born, and after this 
event he went alone to the Bernese Oberland. The 
next year his mother s precarious state of health 
brought things to a crisis. He now definitely gave up 
the parish, and went first with his parents, eldest sister, 
wife and child, to Vichy, Mont Dore, and then to the 
Bel Alp. In the autumn he took up his abode at his 
father s house at Cheltenham, where his eldest son was 
born in January 1864. 

Before Hort left home, a serious interruption to 
regular work had been caused by the composition of 
a pamphlet on the Revised Code of Education, "its 
purpose and probable effects." These criticisms were 
originally intended for a magazine article, but eventually 
appeared in the form of a pamphlet which was widely 
circulated. It sums up the tendencies of the proposals 
of the Committee of Council as " a reduction in our 
funds which will make it impossible for most of us to 
maintain a good school ; and a sordid type of teaching, 
above which we must not dare to rise for fear of losing 
the means of existence." On this text he enlarges for 
thirty-eight pages, of which the following is his own 
summary : 

(1) The Code desires to save public money, and on the 
whole does so. The money withdrawn is not now wasted, 
and will not be replaced ; so that the saving represents an 
equivalent loss of education. 

(2) The Code desires to correct a supposed neglect of 
reading, writing, and arithmetic not wholly imaginary but very 


limited in extent. It secures the naked arts of reading, writ 
ing, and summing, at the cost of discouraging all other ele 
mentary and all higher instruction, and debasing the tone of 
education in schools generally. 

(3) The Code desires to extend the area of government 
aid. The advantages offered barely exceed those already 
within reach. The classes of teachers created are not of a 
kind to improve education in their own schools, while their 
influence may lower the character of better neighbouring 

(4) The Code desires to simplify office business, but 
re-creates in one quarter the complication which it abolishes in 
another. It destroys the position of teachers and apprentices, 
and relaxes the control over the private hobbies or incom 
petence of managers. 

The combined effect of all the regulations is to discourage 
excellence of education, and enfeeble all the energies hitherto 
accumulated to secure its excellence, especially the Training 

It may still be of interest to refer to some of Hort s 
well-weighed declarations on the first two of these heads, 
since they show what thought he had given to these 
difficult practical questions ; nor can the problems of 
National Education be said to have yet reached a final 

(i) Against the financial scheme of the Code he 
protested on behalf of the country schools, which would 
in future have to look for their support to increase of 
the children s payments, or to private subscriptions ; in 
neither case, he contended, would the burden fall on 
the shoulders best able to bear it. Incidentally he 
criticises adversely the alternative plans of local rates 
suggested, e.g. in Dr. Temple s article in the Oxford 
Essays of 1856 ; to local rating he objects first, 
" because it means handing over the education of the 
poor to the lower middle class of their neighbourhood, 


nearly all indifferent, many of them secretly or even 
openly opposed to the education of labourers children ; 
secondly, because no way has yet been found of making 
local rating compatible with the Denominational 
character of English education, in other words the con 
nexion of all, or nearly all, assisted schools with some 
one religious body ; and no other method than the 
denominational has been suggested either expedient or 
practicable. The show of unanimity obtained by ex 
cluding from the regular school-teaching either religious 
instruction altogether, or all except a residuum supposed 
to be common to nearly all Christians, would not re 
move the danger ; a system administered by ratepayers 
would still be in the greatest danger of falling to pieces 
through religious squabbles. The teachers are, and 
would soon be felt to be, of more importance than the 
subjects taught ; and there is no subject not purely 
mechanical, whether called * secular or not, in which 
the character of a master s teaching may not be deeply 
affected either by his own creed, or by what is equally 
important, the circumstances of his own education as 
determined by his creed. Further, in the combined 
system, the separation of religious and secular sub 
jects is injurious by tending to deaden and debase the 
instruction which is always being reminded that it is 
only * secular, and in like manner by imparting a need 
lessly dogmatic character to the religion. " 

Besides reducing the grant to schools, the new 
regulations proposed to save money by crippling the 
resources of the Training Colleges, abolishing the 
salaries to lecturers, reducing the number of Queen s 
Scholars which each College might receive, and dis 
couraging the continuance of their training for more 
than one year. This proposal Hort assailed as another 


attempt to secure economy by lowering the standard of 
education ; and he defended the Colleges on the ground 
that they were now becoming promoters of national 
education with a zeal which was learning not to be 
exclusively religious. " Training Colleges," he said, 
" founded not many years ago to resist the theological 
tendencies of each other, are now working together for 
their better common purpose in perfect amity and 
goodwill " ; and he protested loudly against the notion 
that the prevailing tendency of the Colleges was to 
* over-educate the teachers. 

It should be added that, coupled with Hort s 
criticism of the proposed measures of financial reform, 
were some positive suggestions of legitimate methods 
of economising. 

(2) The evils of payment for results have perhaps 
become sufficiently patent since 1862 ; they are forcibly 
catalogued in this pamphlet with the remark that " they 
would be evil still if the whole duty of man consisted in 
learning to read, write, and cypher." The desire of the 
promoters of the scheme was for palpable results, while, 
as Hort says, " * Education cannot be weighed and 
measured." His position was that (a) examination in 
the three R s cannot be satisfactory ; and that (b) 
even if it could, the limitation of elementary educa 
tion to such instruction is evidence of a very low educa 
tional ideal. For instance, the only reading which 
can be tested is reading aloud, while "the really valu 
able reading, that which opens the Bible and every 
English book to its possessor, is silent reading " ; the 
value of reading aloud is that it is " a means of giving 
others the benefit of proper or silent reading," but the 
former is a rare accomplishment, while the latter is 
within the reach of all : according to the New Code, all 


the pains spent on teaching children the more essential 
kind of reading " will count for nothing, because they 
are still bunglers at an accomplishment which a very 
large majority of the educated classes have never learnt 
to practise decently." 

The above strictures fall on what, comparatively 
speaking, may be called details of management or 
organisation ; the most trenchant part of Hort s attack 
is reserved for the low view of all the possibilities of 
national education which seem to him to be implied in 
all the provisions of the New Code. " It is a coarse and 
petty view of national education which would lead us 
to think chiefly of bestowing the means of success in 
life with or without the addition of religion. It may 
be true that the poor for the most part desire nothing 
more for their children ; if it be so, it is only the more 
incumbent on us to provide correctives to a spirit which, 
if unchecked, must destroy the well-being of the nation. 
We ought by this time to understand clearly that the 
same great purposes should be kept in view in the 
education of all classes alike, however the methods 
appropriate to each may differ. We need not be too 
anxious to give the poor, though we do not grudge 
them, a * professional education ; they will for the most 
part contrive to pick that up in one way or another, 
whether we give it them or not. But they have the 
greatest need of a liberal education ; not a feeble or 
mutilated copy of what passes under that name for the 
rich, but one capable of producing corresponding 
effects by different means. No theoretical scheme of 
subjects is required, nothing of an ambitious or 
doctrinaire character. Doubtless all that can be done 
is already being done in innumerable schools through 
out the country. Whatever gives an interest not 


connected with personal gain or advancement is in fact 
a piece of liberal education. The general effect of all 
such acquisition is to supply a counterpoise to the 
various absorbing influences of society, whatever their 
precise nature may be. ... The fault of the new 
legislation is one which a moderately rational positivist 
might join hands with a bishop in condemning. What 
ever of an informing, expanding, ennobling nature, 
whatever faculties of learning, thought, or feeling it is 
in the power of education to bestow or call forth, are 
ruthlessly ignored, and thereby sacrificed." 


N. WALES, May 26th, 1857. 

... It was the pikters that attracted me in the Scott ; 
but then I wanted the pomes too, some one having (rather 
to my relief) made away with the very scrubby and imperfect 
little edition that I had. 

If ed. 2 of Tom Brown is to come out in but a few weeks, 
I think it might fairly be of the same size and price, so long 
as the edition is not a very large one. I am rejoiced to hear 
it is so well received. 

The sooner Maurice s St. John s Epistles come out, the 
better. I want especially to see him at work on the Apocalypse 
and the Warburtonian subjects thereto appertaining. I was 
thinking a day or two ago that he ought to be spirited up to 
carrying on the Prophets and Kings through and past the 
Captivity; he would write grandly about those latter times, 
and at present there is an ugly gap in his series on the O. T. in 


ST. IPPOLYTS, June 2 > jth, 1857. 

... I write now in haste, to ask you to send me at once 
if possible, by return of post either Mercer s Church 

AGE 29 



Psalter (which I saw at Crewe, and which seems tolerably 
good), or some other good book with the music of the better- 
known old psalm tunes, such as c Rockingham, St. Ann s, 
etc. Dear Daniel Macmillan is dying, if not dead ; so that I 
cannot write to his brother. . . . You will perhaps wonder 
at my speaking especially of such tunes ; but both churches 
have barrel-organs only, with ten such like doleful ditties. 
We heard the one at Wymondley yesterday play at the rate 
of about 10 to 20 seconds to a syllable. 

N.B. This is probably only No. i of a series of questions 
and requests parochial that I shall be compelled to address to 
you. But I will write again very soon less professionally. 

We got here on Tuesday, and found things in tolerable 
order. I was inducted yesterday, and read myself in to 
morrow. Ecce postman. Affectionately yours ever, 



ST. IPPOLYTS, August i2t/t, 1857. 

My dear Macmillan I have kept * to the latest day 

allowed, and yet have not had time to read more than a small 
part, three or four chapters at the beginning, and two dips 
elsewhere. I don t know what to say. The man (or woman ? ?) 
annoys me extremely. The language is abominable, saturated 
with the worst form of the deadliest of literary sins, fine writ 
ing. I have not seen one of his prettinesses which is not 
absolutely worthless. It is not fair to judge of the people 
without reading more ; but they seem to me poor and char 
acterless. In short, as a work of art or literature, I should 
condemn the book without mercy. Whatever value it has, 
must be in the ideas of which it is the vehicle, and a very bad 
one too. Of course many are true and important ; but very 
well known, much canted about, and very cantingly pro 
pounded here. There is a surprising ignorance of common 
facts (the would-be philosophy of the introduction is purely 

1 A novel sent by Macmillan for criticism. 


2 C 


ridiculous), and the way in which in practice one principle 
works on another. I don t think the author has ever thought 
out a single point. He has seen difficulties or rather evils, 
and something of the questions which must be asked (though 
not a bit better than scores of other people), but his answers 
are of the crudest, sometimes very decidedly false. The 
cardinal heresies are (i) throughout, I believe the aiming 
at teachership and lordship as the true goal of man, and (2) 

what justly charges against the better sort of the rising 

generation, a desire to do good, i.e. produce good results, 
instead of doing right and leaving the results to God ; in short, 
practically assuming that we have got to work instead of Him, 
instead of under and with Him. Nevertheless my two dips 
have shown considerable force in the man, and given me a 
feeling that there must be stuff in him ; but he wants a 
tremendously long apprenticeship before he begins to write. 
I should say, Reject the book, but try to get some intercourse 
with the man. Excuse my writing so shortly, but I have no 


ST. IPPOLYTS, August i^th, 1857. 

... I have got and read Ruskin s book. It must be 
mainly good, but is surely too short and sketchy, and yet 
too rambling for its purpose. One is by this time pretty well 
used to his impertinent custom of delivering his opinion of 
things in general a propos of nothing. To read his talk of 
that kind is ruffling to the temper, but one soon says, " Oh ! 
it s only Ruskin," and passes on. I suppose there are people 
who form their opinion of books by his dicta ; but would they 
be better off by going to some one else? Among literary 
popes he is surely not the silliest or sickliest. 

... Is it to be inferred that you are about to learn to 
draw ? I have had some such thoughts ; but time is wanting 
at present. I have not yet seen the illustrated Tennyson, nor 
the two books that you mention. I do not believe it possible 
to illustrate much of Tennyson. Few of his pictures are more 
than slightly visual, and you must not fill up but add, and that 

AGE 29 


largely, to express them on paper. Still he may give good 
hints for good drawings. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, September 22nd, 1857. 
I have in my drawer a letter to you begun nearly 

a month ago about . But it was then too late to be of 

much use, and quite so now. I really do not know a single 
book to recommend thoroughly on any of the matters. On 
the genealogies Mill is very valuable, and, I thought when I 
read him, satisfactory on all the critical points but one ; but 

his tone as towards sceptics is dreadful. I have only 

looked at. He is sure to be honest and tolerably learned, 
but not sure to be strong. The question of the inspiration of 
the Gospels is, I think, pretty well put in the last four sections 
of the first chapter of Alford s introduction. . . . Nothing I 
have ever heard or read agrees so well with my own ideas as 
an University sermon that I once (not more than two or three 
years ago) heard H. Goodwin preach ; I believe it is in one of 
his published volumes, whether Hulsean or not I don t re 
member. But I hope won t read that horrid Restoration 

of Belief 1 That and the Eclipse of Faith I look upon as about 
the two most damaging books to Christianity ever published in 
this country. As regards the Chronology of the Gospels, I 
like Browne s Ordo Sceculorum (as far as I have looked into 
that part of it) above any other. I am nearly sure he is 
right in returning to the ancient belief of our Lord s ministry 
being not much more than a year long. I am now at inter 
vals working a little at the subject myself. The only material 
obstacle, I believe, lies in the words the passover, in John 
vi. 4, which he shows pretty conclusively cannot have been in 
the text used by several of the Fathers. 

Please always send any fresh piece of Tischendorf by post 
as soon as it comes, without waiting for a parcel. I am 
getting more and more convinced of the necessity of West- 
cott s and my work. Tregelles is very good, but he does not 
go to the bottom. 

1 Published in 1852. 



ST. IPPOLYTS, November i*jth, 1857. 

/ . . We are flourishing well enough as to health. I 
don t think it is a very bracing place, but otherwise it is 
healthy (gravel atop of chalk), and being perched on a hill, 
we have the luxury of beholding our neighbours swaddled 
in fog, we being dry and clear. The house is good and 
convenient. The garden is very pretty, and has some 
pleasant flowers in it, specially roses ; but will take a good 
deal of arranging and stocking. I have been pruning roses 
by the light of nature like mad, when I could get a spare 
hour, and flatter myself that I have done considerable exe 
cution upon them, and improved them for next year; but 
they have been so neglected that every tree is a quickset 
hedge. We are soon going to make some walks in our 
plantation, and then I shall have to do some woodcutting. 
We have had a beautiful, and as amusing as beautiful, cat; 
but she died only the other day after a week s illness, brought 
on, we fancy, from jealousy of Miss Loraine s dog. Another 
is, we hope, coming from the same family. There is also a 
second cat, a domestic nigger, fat, greedy, and stupid. But 
what will make you happy above all things is the news that 
we are actually going to have a dog ; nay, it may be here 
before I finish this letter. . . . There is also a small green 
creature like a miniature cockatoo, called a Budgeragar, which 
was brought from Australia. He is quaint and now and 
then noisy, but not on the whole a demonstrative being. 
Also there are squirrels in our plantation, though they don t 
often let themselves be seen, and lots of birds, and therefore 
by no means lots of currants, and hardly any gooseberries. 

The people we like much. They are mostly very friendly 
. . . decidedly above the average of parishioners, I should 
think. Nor is there much real poverty. Practically we have 
five villages, St. Ippolyts, Gosmore, and Little Almshoe in the 
parish of St. Ippolyts, and Great Wymondley and a series of 
Greens in the parish of Great Wymondley. Gosmore, the 
largest of them, is chiefly given over to Dissent. Each parish 


has a (mixed) school, neither very flourishing at present. 
Great Wymondley school is not very old, and has great dis 
advantages. Still it seems to have done great good. St. 
Ippolyts school has been successful enough. . . . We have 
had some low fever in the village (a rare thing), and that has 
frightened away many children. The first note I received on 
the evening of our arrival in June was the resignation of the 
mistress. However, by great good luck we got at Michael 
mas one whom we like much better, and I think she will get 
the school up. There is Sunday school at both schools every 
Sunday. F. and I teach at the St. Ippolyts one, which pre 
cedes the service, and F. at the Great Wymondley one cor 
responding. Those held when there is no service are taken 
by the mistresses. They are not at present very full or 
lively, but still hopeful, and at all events useful as giving us 
some dealings with those who have left the day school. 
This they do dreadfully early, being much addicted to straw- 
plaiting, a practice which does both good and harm. But 
the increase in the number of plaiters is bringing down the 
prices, and one does not see what will happen soon. The 
churches are both rather good-looking and tidy, having been 
done up by Steel. Of course there is only one service each 
Sunday at each church. The morning attendance is but so- 
so ; the afternoon has much increased, and is now extremely 
good, especially in labouring men ; the women don t come 
much. Hardly anybody comes to the Communion. We 
have a doleful barrel organ at each church, on which we 
grind out Tate and Brady to Bedford, Rockingham, 
and such like. But we hope a good time is coming. F. has 
had a singing class in the drawing-room every Saturday 
evening, which is well attended even by grown or growing-up 
girls. Yesterday (this is November 23rd) we had arranged to 
make our first public rush into chants; and, as luck would 
have it, the grinder of our barrel was laid up with a bad 
leg. So we boldly had both chants and psalms without 
organ with agreeable success. Next Sunday we are going to 
make a still bolder move. We are going to start a hymn- 
book and hymn tunes. For weeks I have been surrounded 
with all manner of collections, and have at last settled on a 


really good High Church one, published by Bell and Daldy, 
and rather pretentiously called The Church Hymnal The 
selection of tunes is no easy matter ; but we have got several 
books, including your wife s Mercer. 

Our neighbours are many and very friendly. The clergy 
are really a very nice set, none rageous in any direction. 
Gentlemanliness has done a good deal for them, and this is 
an undeniably gentlemanly county. Almost everybody has a 
beautiful garden, and takes an interest in it. We are very 
lucky as to country, being not much more than a mile within 
the genuine Hertfordshire region, wooded, rather broken, and 
undeniably pretty for the east of England. 

All this strange Indian drama has been being acted since 
we have had any real letters from each other. I believe I 
take it with a kind of Islamite composure, hardly knowing 
what is most dreadful. All that has happened does seem to 
me a most just and needed lesson to England, and to the 
English in India; but it is horrible enough, God knows. 
The great satisfaction is the masterly wisdom, energy, and 
courage of nearly all who have had to act in India, from 
Lord Canning to the units of the English regiments. The 
Indian authorities (not society) do seem to set justice before 
them in earnest. But it is shocking to see the increasing 
spirit of injustice (equally lax and unmerciful) which the 
crisis brings to light in England and in Indian society. All 
that has happened might be of great use to India, and per 
haps may be in the end of ends ; but meanwhile the warning 
seems almost wholly lost at home. It is the old dismal 
wickedness of the time of the Crimean war revived. And 
the religious talk is the most sickening of all. It almost 
makes one wish one were a Hindoo or a Mussulman. But 
one must try not to croak. There must be something at 
home worthily represented by Outram and Havelock abroad. 

ST. IPPOLYTS, HITCHIN, December ist, 1857. 

. . . The chief point which raises doubt is the expense : 
on what do you propose to expend guinea subscriptions and 


guinea entrance fees ? Surely there is nothing to be gained 
by having rooms, curator, and that style of thing? 
William Mathews wrote to me about such a club for one 
dinner nearly a year ago ; and I then told him I thought it 
would be an excellent thing, provided care were taken that 
the dinner bills were kept within reasonable dimensions. 
When he was here a few weeks ago, he quite concurred ; 
he was then going to write to you on the subject, but I 
have heard no more from him. Is it not rather much to 
ask a guinea a year, besides two dinners and (for all except 
Londoners) two double journeys to town ? Granting that it is 
desirable to make the club select, we cannot see that a money 
standard is a desirable one. It may be well to have a few 
books and maps, though most of us would be likely to possess 
the best maps of districts which we meant to visit ; but their 
annual cost ought to be something very small. Circulars 
would also cost something. But these are the only necessary 
expenses we can think of (except in connexion with dinners, 
which will, as you propose, be divided among the diners) ; and 
they might be annually divided among the whole Club 
without a large fixed subscription. What idea lurks under 
geographical explorers and other guests of celebrity ? 
Surely we do not want speeches from Dr. Livingstone or Sir 
Roderick Murchison? The introduction of such elements 
seems likely to impair the genuineness of the whole affair. 

Hawkins rather demurs to that qualification [Rule VII.] of 
altitude as uncertain, because, e.g., the ascent of the Cima di 
Jazi is no test of Alpine prowess ; but I cannot myself see 
how any standard can be fixed not liable to exception ; and 
yours seems fair enough. 

You must forgive my writing so freely on behalf of two 
outsiders, but I suppose the Club is not yet absolutely born ; 
and there may be still time to think over possible modifica 
tions. Might not the final determination of rules be left to a 
meeting of all such Original Members as should be able 
and willing to attend say, at the February dinner, when 
their number shall be considered as complete ? Believe me 
very truly yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 



ST. IPPOLYTS, HITCHIN, December 2ist, 1857. 

... I hope you will plead the cause of us rural members 
or would-be members, remembering that journeys to town add 
materially to the expenses of dinners, and thus to the practical 
annual cost of membership. Indeed two dinners plus a guinea 
a year are alone rather frightening to those who, like myself, 
have not a long purse. I do not mean that any favour should 
be extended to us, but that the guinea subscription should be 
reconsidered, as possibly showy rather than needful. 

Lightfoot, who left me this morning, begs me to say the 
same on his behalf. 


S^r. IPPOLYTS, December 30^, 1857. 

. . . We have had no great Christmas festivities. The 
time here for the school festival is June. So we only gave 
away the club tickets along with big slices of cake. We were 
too busy to do anything to either of the churches ; and indeed 
we rather wished to see how the people themselves did them, 
not wishing to break in rudely upon them. St. Ippolyts 
looked very well ; but I think we shall next year put a little 
finger in the pie. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, January qth, 1858. 

. . . First touching the Greek Testament. . . . Westcott 
has long done St. Matthew and St. John and part of St. Mark, 
but nothing lately. I have been working very hard, and have 
really given much time to it, but some weeks I have had 
much other business to do ; and I could not have done more. 
I work more slowly than he does, and examine more authori 
ties, and find it answer ; for I have obtained much very valu 
able evidence unused before. 

. . . Many points of N. T. grammar come unavoidably 
before me in working at the text, and I want to note down 

AGE 29 


more regularly than I have done corrections of or additions to 
Winer ; and before long I may be able to do something for 
you in that way. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, January 12th, 1858. 

... I read Tom Brown s School Days in April, when it 
first came out. The author, Tom Hughes, has been an 
acquaintance of mine a great many years, but I had not 
got to know him well till the last year or so. When I went 
up to town in the spring, I slept one night at his house 
at Wimbledon. Curiously enough I had taken the book as 
a travelling companion, and finished it a few minutes before 
reaching his house. His brother married a niece and adopted 
daughter of Lady Salusbury, who lives at Offley, three or 
four miles hence, and Tom Hughes and his wife were over 
there in the summer for a few days. He and his brother 
appeared in church one afternoon ; I did not see them till the 
middle of a sentence in the sermon, and was nearly upset. 
After church they came up and had tea. Next day Lady 
Salusbury drove them over with Mrs. Hughes, and on the 
Thursday we dined at Offley. The book I like much ; only I 
wish he would not defile the true Rugby slang with foreign 


ST. IPPOLVTS, January 2ist, 1858. 

... I am in earnest in wishing and hoping to do the 
Grammar, i.e. a revised and improved translation of Winer. 
In the last few days I have jotted down by the way a lot of 
things useful for it. I only wish I had kept it in view from 
the beginning of Matthew. 

The Church History may be only one of my many castles 
in the air. But what I meant would have been preliminary 
to the big thing, covering only 325 years instead of how 
many ? It would also be shorter, more popular, and less 
thorough ; probably not more than one octavo volume, 
possibly two ; the object being to give a lively picture of 


those centuries as bearing on the Church for the general 
reader, and to make people see the huge interest and im 
portance of Church History. 

My notion of the N. T. translation was to put into English 
in the shape of a translation the results of our Greek work, 
retaining all, or nearly all, the doubtfulnesses of text, and 
adding to these the doubtfulnesses of the meaning of text. 
Some notes would probably be required ; and also pretty 
full discussions as to the exact meaning of the more important 
Greek words, and (since no translation from one language 
to another can be perfect, even when the meaning of the 
original is perfectly ascertained) as to the balance of 
advantages in using this or that English word. It would 
thus practically contain (what I have sometimes dreamed of 
trying to write) a c Prolegomena to all future translations of 
the N. T., along with an actual translation, conveying the 
meaning of the Greek so far as I am able to ascertain what 
the Greek is and what is its meaning. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, January 2yd, 1858. 

... I don t think I have written since Christmas. We 
had Hark the herald to your tune ( Ulverston provision 
ally), and it went off very well. The singing goes on with fair 
success ; F. s class amounts to nearly forty. We have some 
idea of moving as many as possible into the chancel. 

Joseph Mayor sent us the other day Walker s Rugby book. 
I was glad to get the music of two old school favourites of 
mine, Gethsemane, by Rogers ( Go to dark Gethsemane ), 
and one by Pleyal for Glorious things of Thee are spoken, 
not equal to Haydn, of course, and faulty in some points, 
but a fine tune. We like the Parish Choir book better and 

At odd moments I am working into Milman s first volume. 
It is interesting and good, but less really impartial than I 
expected, and thoroughly Oxonian liberal. Theology seems 
to him a mere chimera, in fact, one might say, all truth. 

AGE 29 



And, in spite of the honest pains he has taken to read the 
documents presented to him by text -books, and by rival 
parties, with his own eyes, his learning strikes me as nowhere 
profound. But he may be better farther on, when he has 
quite warmed into Western politics, his real field of 
interest. . . . 

No time or space for India, the recovery of which may 
under present auspices be a greater curse to England than 
its loss would have been. But Inglis story, and Havelock 
and his death, and Sir C. Campbell s deeds silence is 
best. One noble and deep word has been said about 
Havelock s death in Maurice s sermon two Sundays ago. 
Ever most affectionately yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, January 26tk, 1858. 

... I am glad Kingsley is fastidious about his volume of 
poems; if so, they will be right good ones to a certainty. 
Silence also is not a bad thing for him ; unless he did some 
thing more in the Heroes line, whether Greek or Teutonic 
or anything else. He has done nothing so flawless of late : 
I am very stubborn in my prejudice that Two Years Ago was, 
taken as a whole, a step backwards. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, February $rd, 1858. 

My dear Macmillan I am ashamed that T. B. is still 
The preface is good ; for hath not Tom Brown written 
The long letter ought to have been 

partly answered. I was five years in a house of fifty boys 
constantly changing, one of the roughest (perhaps the 
roughest) and most lawless house at Rugby ; and I do not 
believe that one nervous or sensitive boy was blighted. I 
don t doubt that much of that kind of petty ill-usage went 
on, though I saw but little, being myself in a praepostor s 


it ? but unsatisfying. 


bedroom all the time. But I doubt the evil effects. The 
evil itself is clear, and should be put down if possible ; but 
how ? Every remedy hitherto proposed is worse than the 
disease. Increased supervision by masters is the very devil. 
. ... The most successful antagonist of bullying hitherto 
has been the prsepostorial system which enlightened public 
opinion wants to put down. Possibly its supervision of 
bedrooms may be improved. Much also may be done by 
a wise master, putting little or delicate boys in rooms where 
there is a praepostor. Every boy in my room (there were 
five) knelt down night and morning during those five years. 
But indeed I suspect Hughes correspondent s letter is a good 
deal out of date. Things became more civilised in my 
memory, and have, I believe, since become more civilised still. 
If the master of a house deals wisely with his praepostors, a 
great deal may be done in that way. 

Dr. Tregelles has most kindly promised to let me have the 
sheets of his St. Luke, etc., as they are printed off; this is a 
very great help. Poor old fellow ; he seems sadly lonely 
down at Plymouth, all his friends and neighbours thinking 
him only a madman; and then to have to bear a savage 
attack from Tischendorf. 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, March tfh, 1858. 

... I have just been rash enough to undertake to join the 
affair of which I enclose a prospectus (which please return). I 
have undertaken the Gospels, Wisdom, and Ecclesiasticus. 
Dr. Smith (he of the Dictionaries) is the speculator. Westcott 
takes Daniel and most of the Apocrypha ; Temple (of Rugby), 
Romans ; Lightfoot, the Acts ; Ellicott, some Epistles ; Barry 
is also to take part, and perhaps Scott ; so one will be in good 
company. Printing will not begin for nearly two years. But 
I shall have enough to do in making up my mind about the 
Gospels, and reading all manner of books besides the comment 
ary itself. It is rather a weight upon one s mind to have under 
taken so much ; but it was a great opportunity, and tempting to 



rescue the Gospels from some unknown Philistine. This leaving 
home has sadly interrupted Greek Testament, at which I was 
able to get on famously in Influenza time. Westcott will, I 
hope, come to us at Easter, that we may go over St. Matthew 
and Mark together, and send them at once to press. I have 
just corrected and sent back a long notice of Tregelles and 
Tischendorf which I have been writing for the forthcoming 
number of our Journal. 1 

ST. IPPOLYTS, March 30^, 1858. 

... I have just run through Kingsley, 2 and am only sorry 
that there is not more. Except * Andromeda and St. Maura, 
there is little new worth much. But they are great, * St. Maura 
in particular. 





ST. IPPOLYTS, April i$th, 1858. 

Tregelles wants to know if any Cambridge publisher 
would take the risk of a quarto tract of about two sheets, 
with a complete facsimile of the important Muratorian fragment 
on the Canon at Milan. There are curious discrepancies 
the collations. But last August Tregelles made an 
xact facsimile. . . . The thing will hardly sell much in 
England, unless trouble is taken about it; more probably 
in Germany. It is of much consequence; so much that 
Lightfoot was talking not long ago of going to Milan for the 
express purpose of thoroughly overhauling it. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, April 2&th, 1858. 

My dear Macmillan I don t know what you will say to the 
irport of this letter. Westcott came here the evening after 

1 Sec Journal of Classical and Sacred Philology , vol. iv. No. xi. 
2 Viz. the Poems. 


you left us, and went away last evening. We worked without 
intermission all day long every day except my confirmation 
classes, some time on Saturday for sermon, and about three- 
quarters of an hour of exercise. Yet we got done only 20 J 
chapters of St. Matthew. . . . We now find that final revision 
is a slow process as well as preparation. Further, although 
it is very unlikely that we shall see occasion to change any of 
our present results, there is a possibility of making use of new 
discoveries of MSS., etc. (should such arise), which would be 
sacrificed by printing at once. . . . These reasons have 
occurred to us against printing at once. ... In any case, 
you may be assured that we both shall go on steadily and 
without intermission at our work of separate preparation. We 
are thoroughly satisfied with our work up to this point. There 
were at first many superficial differences, which mostly vanished 
on thorough discussion. We each surrendered about equal 
quantities of first impressions ; and without any compromise 
or sacrifice, are now both quite content with our text, 
though we have been obliged to put many readings in the 
margin. We have inserted none which had not strong direct 
or indirect external evidence, referring to an Appendix for 
private suspicions of our own, as also for interesting but 
improbable ancient readings. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, May \st> 1858. 

... I know nothing about Hansel s lectures save from 
the Guardian. But he holds the doctrine of universal nescience 
more consciously and clearly than I suppose any other English 
man ; a just Nemesis on Butler s probabilities ! So perish all 
halfway houses ! 


ST. IPPOLYTS, May ijtk, 1858. 

. . . F. told you that I had been trying extempore 
preaching. I get on better than I expected as to fluency, 
but find, as I expected, great difficulty in expressing my- 



self simply enough. I am often obliged to use words which 
I am conscious will probably not be understood, simply 
because I have not time to find out better ones \ and 
the same kind of difficulty meets me in other ways. But 
practice may do something. 

I wish you could have seen the garden about a fortnight 
ago. We have a great quantity of Ribes sangm nea, some of 
the bushes 8 or 10 feet high, and they were covered with 
blossom. The foreign Berberis was in perfection at the same 
time. The lilacs are now coming out, and in two or three 
days we shall have the laburnums and Wistaria. . . . The 
seeds that we sowed are coming up nicely, but we were late 
with them. In the cooler weather I cut down many of our 
laurels, thereby spoiling for the time our walk at the bottom 
of the garden ; but they were getting very bad below, besides 
throttling ever so many other shrubs and monopolising the 
border. Plenty more have the same fate awaiting them ; and 
a great deal has still to be done in clearing spruces and other 
trees too much crowded in several places. 

Like you, I never had so much enjoyment as this year in 
watching the green things coming out. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, HITCHIN, October 2ist, 1858. 

y dear Sir I owe you many apologies for my remiss- 
ness in writing to you about the invitation x conveyed to me 
through our mutual friend Mr. Roby. He has, I hope, pre 
vented any actual inconvenience by informing you of my un 
willingness to contribute to the proposed volume of Essays. 
But I feel bound, both in courtesy and on my own account, 
to explain why I must decline so high an honour, for as such 
I sincerely regard it. 

The chief impediment is a wide difference of principles 
and opinions from the body of your coadjutors. I can go all 
lengths with them in maintaining absolute freedom of criti 
cism, science, and speculation ; in appealing to experience as 

1 To take part in the projected volume of Essays and Reviews. 


a test of mere a priori dogma ; and in upholding the supre 
macy of spirit over letter in all possible applications. Further 
I agree with them in condemning many leading specific doc 
trines of the popular theology as, to say the least, containing 
much superstition and immorality of a very pernicious kind. 
But I fear that in our own positive theology we should diverge 
widely. I have a deeply-rooted agreement with High Church 
men as to the Church, Ministry, Sacraments, and, above all, 
Creeds, though by no means acquiescing in their unhistorical 
and unphilosophical treatment of theology, or their fears and 
antipathies generally. The positive doctrines even of the 
Evangelicals seem to me perverted rather than untrue. There 
are, I fear, still more serious differences between us on the 
subject of authority, and especially the authority of the Bible \ 
and this alone would make my position among you sufficiently 
false in respect to the great questions which you will be chiefly 
anxious to discuss. 

If this primary objection were removed, and I could feel 
our differences to be only of degree, I should still hesitate to 
take part in the proposed scheme. It is surely likely to bring 
on a crisis ; and that I cannot think desirable on any account. 
The errors and prejudices, which we agree in wishing to 
remove, can surely be more wholesomely and also more 
effectually reached by individual efforts of an indirect kind 
than by combined open assault. At present very many 
orthodox but rational men are being unawares acted on by 
influences which will assuredly bear good fruit in due time, if 
the process is allowed to go on quietly; but I cannot help 
fearing that a premature crisis would frighten back many into 
the merest traditionalism. And as a mere matter of prudence, 
it seems to me questionable to set up a single broad con 
spicuous target for the Philistines to shoot at, unless there is 
some very decided advantage to be gained. Moreover I must 
confess a strong repugnance to any measure likely to promote 
anything like a party organisation, even supposing the prin 
ciples to be my own. 

Mr. Roby mentioned a suggestion of yours that I should 
write on Justin Martyr ; that is, doubtless, his theology. But 
the truth is, I do not feel at all competent for such a task as 




yet. The growth of the early theology requires such careful 
study that I wish not to be tempted into printing mere 
crudities. Indeed at present my hands are full. Just now 
I have enough to do with the text of the N. T. ; and, when 
that is done, I have other engagements in N. T. criticism which 
must occupy me a considerable time. 

I cannot conclude without expressing my very great regret 
at being obliged to decline so inviting an opportunity for asso 
ciation with men, several of whom I respect very highly, and 
with whom I feel that I have in many respects a common 
cause. I must also ask you to pardon the (perhaps unavoid 
ably) egotistical tone of this letter. Believe me, my dear sir, 
very truly yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, All Saints Day (past post}, 1858. 

. . I send the Epiphany Hymn and Aurora Lua s. 1 
... I am going on with Carlyle, 2 which is thoroughly good 
and interesting. There is a very strange (not readable) 
chapter on an extraordinary incident which introduced poor 
Frederick to the premature debauchery which destroyed his 
health and the finer parts of his character, and at its close the 
dear old prophet takes up his parable with terrible quiet force 
and solemnity against the whole wild oats theory. I am 
also reading Mansel, who is less unfair than I expected, but he 
must be very chuffy food to his orthodox admirers. Ever 
yours affectionately, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

ST. IPPOLYTS, November $th, 1858. 

... In a (financially) evil hour I put my name down 
for Carlyle s Frederick years ago, when I expected such 
a sized book as the Cromwell; and now I have got the 
first half in the shape of two ponderous octavos. But 


1 See Appendix I. 

2 Frederick the Great. 
2 D 


they are uncommonly interesting, and tell me a world of 
things I wanted to know, besides the never-ending charm of 
Carlyle himself. I am also getting on with Hansel s book, 1 
comforting myself with the thought of what a very juiceless 
and indigestible morsel it must be to its orthodox admirers. 
Otherwise it is clear, vigorous, and not often unfair ; only a 
big lie from beginning to end. Our love to you and your 
wife. Ever yours affectionately, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, December i^th, 1858. 

... I will begin with church decorations. The great 
principle is to follow and not contradict the lines of the 
architecture, and generally to keep the character of the 
architecture of your building; e.g. on no account to admit 
festoons into a Gothic building, though they ought to be 
bearable in ball-room or pump-room Renaissance. You need 
not always merely ornament the exact existing lines ; but if 
you make new lines, they ought to harmonise with the old 
ones, and in fact to represent in general character what a good 
architect might insert if he wished to extend the existing orna 
ment of your church. 2 


ST. IPPOLYTS, HITCHIN, January $th, 1859. 

. . . You may judge of my state of work when I tell you I 
have read only half the White Horse? entirely delicious as 
it is. 

Westcott s four days dwindled, alas ! to three, but we worked 
incessantly Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Alas ! we 
only finished St. Matthew and three chapters of St. Mark. We 

1 Bampton Lectures, delivered and published in 1858 ; see Maurice s 
Life> vol. ii. chap. x. 

2 On the same subject Hort wrote also a letter of three sheets, with 
coloured architectural drawings. 

3 The Scouring of the White fforse, by T. Hughes. 

AGE 30 



are doing it well while we are about it, and could not hurry it. 
St. Mark is frightfully slow to get through, nearly every word 
wanting rigid scrutiny. St. Luke will, I hope, be decidedly 
easier, and the rest quite another thing. It is really very 
lucky that we did not do it a year or two ago, so much fresh 
light comes from Tregelles and the new Tischendorf. Tregelles 
has lately rooted out a MS. of part of St. Luke belonging to 
the Bible Society, which is as good as any except the Vatican. 
They have had it ever so many years ! Now for our future 
doings. . . . The plan of correspondence answered so well in 
Romans that we are going to try it for the easier parts, 
reserving only single points for personal discussion. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, February iStti, 1859. 

My dear Lightfoot Thank you very much for your kind 
present, 1 which has duly arrived. Only you must not go 
doing that sort of thing again, if ever I ask you to give an 
order on my behalf. If in the autumn it shall turn out that 
the College in its brewing capacity deserves censure, I will 
take care to forward to you a complaint to go before the 
Master and Seniors. 

But why did you send beer instead of coming yourself? 
You promised to come on your return from winter meditations 
on S. Paulus, and it is too bad to slip by in this manner. I 
expected to see divers friends, but no one has appeared 
except Luard, who dropped in after dark one evening in a 
praiseworthy manner, not praiseworthy only in this, that he 
went on by the next train. 

I have another question to ask about a proposed publica 
tion of Dr. Tregelles. He has, as I daresay you know, found 
in the possession of the Bible Society some extremely im 
portant palimpsest fragments of the first eleven chapters of St. 
Luke. The writing is almost invisible, and it is only by the 
labour of months that he has been able to read the text. 
The marginal catena (chiefly from Cyril and Origen) he has 

1 Of some Trinity Audit ale. 


not touched. There is not much chance of the Bible Society 
allowing chemicals to be used. Dr. Tregelles wants to publish 
the text, but can t afford the risk ; and hints about the 
University Press. Is there any chance of their consenting to 
do it ? Or, that failing, do you think it could be done by 
subscription ? Of course he uses the MS. in his edition. He 
has kindly allowed me to use the proof-sheets, which now 
reach to Luke ix. i, and I can testify to the high value of the 
MS. It is inferior to B, but scarcely, if at all, inferior to C 
and L. Dr. Tregelles calls it /E?. 1 Ever yours affectionately, 



ST. IPPOLYTS, March 31^, 1859. 
[A Postscript^ 

The postman came yesterday before I had finished, and 
now your note and sheet have arrived. I am sending the 
latter on to Cambridge (though I should still hardly likely 
to subscribe exactly to what you have written), because you 
have removed what seemed to me to be needlessly open to 
objection. You could not go further without suppressing 
your own convictions. 

The change on p. 65 2 opens a door for the admission of 
my view by the side of your own, but leaves your own un 
touched. I am far from saying it is wrong (Matt. xiii. 58, 
Mark vi. 5 certainly suggest that it may be true, at least under 
an important modification implied by both passages) ; but I 
think you arrive at it by a wrong road, viz. by considering 
miracles solely with reference to the present needs of men, 
and as conditioned solely by men s capacity for them at the 
time. I think they are at least as much connected with 
crises of God s eternal plans of revelation, education, and 
government, which cannot be set aside by men s unbelief. 
Surely you would shrink from saying that B.C. 50-1 was an age 

!1 See Westcott and Hort s Introduction , p. 153. 
2 The criticisms which follow are on Mr. Westcott s Gospel Miracles. 

AGE 30 



of unbelief, and A.D. 1-50 an age of faith, and therefore the 
latter had miracles, and not the former. Again, in p. 67 
limited philanthropy is less offensive to me than " natural 
charity " ; but I have the strongest objection to helping 
in degrading the meanings of charity, philanthropy, 
humanity, or any such words. Etymology, association, and 
meaning all, I think, require us to hallow them, and rescue 
them if possible from popular debasement ; and that because 
the spirit of the age is in nothing so evil as in its deifica 
tion of good-nature, and estimation of outward as more vital 
than inward needs. My objection to your tone on this point is 
twofold ; first, that it introduces a confusion as to the word 
spiritual by assuming that the character of a feeling is 
determined by the nature of its objects, e.g. that a care for 
man s bodies cannot be spiritual, and that a care for their 
spirits must be spiritual ; secondly, that it actually does assume 
one, if not both, of these propositions. It seems to me that 
the spurious and unspiritual feeling of the day, which I agree 
with you in denouncing, is directed to spiritual even more 
frequently than to material objects; and above all, that to 
divorce from each other a care for men s bodies and for their 
spirits, or under any pretence whatever to cast a slight upon 
the former, or even upon those who exclusively (at least as 
they fancy) devote themselves to the former, is to set at naught 
the first and last lessons of the Gospels. It would be utterly 
shocking to me to doubt that the plainest and most literal 
meaning of such passages as Matt. xv. 32, Mark viii. 2, 3 is 
also the most important, whatever other meanings may like 
wise be contained within them. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, Easter Monday , 1859. 

. . . Seeing only the Guardian and Saturday Review, 
we have not been able to watch so well the different 
steps of the frightful crisis, of which I do not think you 
speak at all too strongly. There seems to be no gleam 
of satisfaction or hope in the war looked at from any side. 


Its miseries for Europe must be immediate, and one knows 
not what it may bring destruction perhaps upon us pre 
sently. Austria is indeed very irritating, but still, I think, 
almost innocent in the matter. I mean, its present state is the 
growth of centuries. Has it taken a single unnecessary step ? 
Doubtless the root of all is the anomaly of its presence in Italy ; 
but that is poor comfort. Better a German than a French 
Italy, and I fear there are but the two alternatives for a long 
time to come. Indeed has Italy ever^ in ancient or modern 
times, been a free or united country ? The present struggle 
of France and Austria in Italy seems merely the continuation of 
their old struggle for the same ground, which was interrupted 
by the consequences of the Reformation, now renewed with 
fearful aggravation in an age of emperors and praetorians. 
But there is and has for generations been a tone about the 
Austrian Government (I hope and half believe not the 
Austrian people) which is repellent to the last degree, and 
keeps down all hopes which otherwise might arise of a 
regeneration of all Europe from that quarter. I confess I 
have very little feeling for Sardinia. It has made a good 
stand against military despotism and Mazzini-ism, and that is 
all. Perhaps every one of its internal acts has been necessary, 
and even good ; but the spirit seems to me little better than 
one of unbelief and prudentially economised anarchy. The 
late foreign policy has some excuses, but none that will justify 
its insane wickedness. 

Then, as you say, what a Government at home ! Only 
surely better than one under Lord Palmerston can ever be, or 
even under Lord John Russell. But the growing cowardice 
and dishonesty of public men is the worst of all. But I 
suppose the root of all this and much more is the deadness 
and unbelief among ourselves, the clergy more than any, 
which every one of us must best know by what he finds in 
himself. Certainly you need not fear my being * angry at your 
confessing what I, at least, for one, feel I ought to confess every 
day. But I suppose no outward or inward discipline can be too 
severe, if it is to plant and maintain in us the practical belief 
that God Himself, and not men s faith in Him, is that on 
which all things rest, and that truth is true though all denied 



it. It cannot be a bad thing to be driven back to the Psalms 
and the Creed. They, at least, take us out of ourselves into 
the very heart of the kingdom which cannot be moved. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, April 7///, 1859. 

My dear Westcott I am quite willing to believe that our 
difference is rather verbal than material, though I fear the 
choice of words betrays some latent difference. The word 
* ideal is used in so many dissolving senses that it is difficult 
to tell what is meant by it in any particular case, unless clearly 
defined by the context. No use of it is so common, however, 
as in cases such as that in which you employed it, viz. when 
the actually existing state of things as a matter of fact is con 
trasted either with a perfect theoretical standard or exemplar, 
or with the view supposed to be taken of the actual state ot 
things under some peculiar conditions by which its evils and 
effects are eliminated from sight and ignored. The former of 
these senses is much the more common of the two, and most 
persons reading your language would, I think, take it accord 
ingly, even if they were puzzled by the seeming contradiction 
of your references ; it is to this sense that I entirely object. 
In the latter sense I could admit your language as true, though 
expressing by no means the whole truth. 

It seems to me that the Bible teaches us that such truths 
as that of the death to sin are by no means to be considered 
as true only under conditions and limitations, only by a tacit 
suppression of existing facts ; nay, that such truths express 
just the most absolutely true and fundamental facts, and that 
any other facts which are apparently at variance with them are 
themselves only conditionally and secondarily true. 

St. Paul acknowledges the deflexion of men s acts from 
the state in which he believes them actually as a matter 
of fact to stand, just as much as any modern religionist 
could do ; but he does not make the deflexion itself to be the 
true characteristic of men. He says, " You are in a right and 
true state, I beseech you to walk accordingly." This is his 


standard formula. He refers men s irregular acts to their walk, 
not to what they are. 

There is of course a question behind, on which language 
must needs be contradictory, In virtue of what are men 
dead to sin ? and further, Who then are dead to sin ? 

The first question is of course answered by St. Paul, in 
virtue of Christ s death on the cross. But, though this really 
contains the answer to the second question, it is not usually 
understood to do so. The answer must be, All who bear the 
same flesh and blood which Christ bore. It is therefore 
strictly true that every Jew, heathen, or outcast from the true 
fold of any kind is, in St. Paul s words, already " dead to sin." 
But it is not the less needful that this eternal and invisible 
truth should have a temporal and outward embodiment and 
attestation ; and that can be only by baptism. Therefore St. 
Paul connects the state with a past completed act, by which 
it was formally taken possession of. The outward temporal 
act of passing from the world into the Church was the true 
symbol of the transition (if so it may be called) from nature 
to grace, from the life of sin and death of man (Rom. vii. 
9, 10) to the death to sin and life of man, which in reality 
does not belong to time at all, at least only in so far as evil 
and sin themselves are only temporal. 

Hence we have the necessity for such phrases as that in 
Gal. v. 24, which represent the man himself as the agent in 
the crucifixion of the flesh ; and which would convey a deadly 
falsehood, if they were not based on the deeper and more 
universal truth that Christ Himself nailed the flesh to His 

I did not mean to have run on into this long lecture. But I 
wanted to explain what seems to me the truth, and one of the 
most essential of all truths. I confess your language seemed 
to me by implication to deny it ; certainly to obscure it ; 
though your references went the other way, if taken, as of 
course I wish to take them, in the strictest letter. But I shall 
be delighted to find that I was mistaken. I must, however, 
think that the word ideal is likely, through its ordinary 
associations, to mislead most readers. Ever affectionately 
yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

VGE 31 



ST. IPPOLYTS, April 2$tk, 1859. 

dear Macmillan Your plan, 1 under one form or 
another, is very tempting, and ought to produce good fruit. . . . 
I confess I think a Biographical History altogether a mistake. 
There is a great inclination in the present day (Stanley being 
a principal offender) to resolve history into biography plus 
geography, which seems to me almost purely mischievous. It 
not only destroys all essential continuity, but leads people to 
think of men as heroes on their own account rather than as 
doing a particular appointed work for the nation (and also the 
generation) of which they are members. Doubtless we want 
biographies ; and we want also that they should not stand 
alone as units, but be felt to be links in one great chain. 
Boys and men want history as well as biographies ; but you 
will never be able to make history by stringing biographies 
together in a row, let them fit on to each other ever so closely. 
You must have the history a separate and substantial thing. 
Then the biographies will be expansions of particular figures 
in it. I don t mean to say that you are or are not called on 
to provide a history by way of thread to your biographies. 
Doubtless the history of England for either boys or men yet 
remains to be written ; but I doubt our being ripe for it yet. 
Anyhow the main facts of English History can be and are 
learned in series by boys and men from existing books ; and 
the impression given by them is quite thread enough for your 
biographies. . . . The historical Arthur (if he ever existed, as I 
suppose he did) is very far as yet from being at all interpreted. 
No one should attempt it who is not a good Welsh scholar to 
begin with. In a few years perhaps we may know something, 
but not yet. The Arthur whom we do know is a mediaeval, 
whom it is the grossest anachronism to stuff in before the 
Saxons. He again is quite worth knowing on his [own] 
account, but on the same footing as Perseus or Jason. 

As regards myself, the whole thing is very inviting, though 

1 See p. 37 1 . The allusion is to a projected English History in the form 
of a series of biographies. 


I don t know that I have any special eager ness, beyond a 
preference for working at the earlier times. Of your present 
volumes, I should prefer the third (Edward I. to Richard III.), 
though I don t in the least know how I shall ever be able to 
get sufficient knowledge of such a lot of people. I confess I 
should like to strike out Chaucer and Froissart (who of course 
would be in a history) as not having enough of a life, though, 
perhaps, this is fanciful ; and Wallace and Bruce (who also 
belong to English History), just as I would not put Hannibal 
among Roman heroes. But I still hope you will go back to 
the independent lives. In that case I think I should like to 
go in for Roger Bacon, or Wycliffe, if you prefer it ; or 
Edward I. or Edward III. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, June 6th, 1859. 

. . . Thanks many for your hymn-book. 1 I sent one to 
Vesey the other day, and have just given the other to Mayor. 
I ordered a supply through our Hitchin bookseller. It seems 
to me very greatly improved since I saw it in MS. There are 
now, I think, only two or three very trifling things at which I 
should stumble, and almost everything I like very decidedly ; 
especially your own funeral hymn. 2 . . . 

Tischendorf s new discovery may delay our N. T. greatly, 
as Westcott wishes (not I) to wait for it ; but there can be 
little doubt of its importance. Ever yours affectionately, 



ST. IPPOLYTS, June 2gth, 1859. 

My dear Macmillan If you can get out the books at once, 
so much the better, but I daresay I shall have enough for my 
holiday with digesting Pauli, Eccleston, Adam Marsh, and 

1 Hymns for Schools and Bible Classes. 

2 The hymn beginning, God of the living, to whose eye All things 
Thou madest open lie. 

AGE 31 



Roger Wendover. . . . Certainly my wish and endeavour will 
be strictly to keep to a boy s book. I have not time for any 
thing more at present, though of course the subject may prove 
tempting hereafter. But I must get a pretty full and clear 
account of the men into my own head before I can write any 
thing ; only I shall let alone as far as possible all special 
subjects of study, though they could not be let alone if one 
were taking at present a more ambitious flight. 


teILFRACOMBE, July 2.*]th, 1859. 
My English History work is a life of S. de Montfort, 
ite, and Roger Bacon. By this time I am getting to 
..lost as much about Henry III. s reign as, I suppose, 
Mrs. Markham may contain. It is very interesting, but takes 
time. It is meant as pure narrative, chiefly but not solely for 
boys : purpose, if any beyond the facts, to counteract the 
Dickens and Punch view of deceased Englishmen and 
deceased (?) ages generally. 

I have had nothing the matter beyond what I said ; but I 
have been long and may long continue much below my natural 
health. Unfortunately it is my routine that wears me most, 
with its never-pausing frets and anxieties. Extra work is to 
me luxury and repose. 


me luxury 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, August i2th, 1859. 

... I get on slowly with the historical work. I am now 
reading Adam Marsh s Epistles, published only last year, and 
full of interest, though I have never had to wade through 
more intolerable verbiage. Then I shall have Grostete s own 
epistles. There are a good many Chronicles to be read, and 
I fear I shall have to spend some time in the MSS. of the 
British Museum and Tower. Ever affectionately yours, 



.P.S. Since writing this we have decided to try Malvern, 1 
under Dr. Johnson, formerly of Umberslade, where I was 
when we met and determined on the N. T. text. 


September *]th, 1859. 

... I suppose the existing standard of idyls is Theocritus 
(and Bion and Moschus if we had them) ; but I can hardly 
think that Goethe and Voss have done wrong in giving them 
a more human centre, or that they have so made them less 
idyllic. It is the singleness and as it were privateness of the 
action, I suppose, that makes them 2 idyllic. Together they 
form a whole, of which Arthur is in a manner the centre, as 
he might be of various other similar wholes ; but they do not 
make an epic, an Arthuriad, and I suspect that one reason for 
the title is to warn people that they must not expect such a 

We have not yet plunged into Mudie \ but I have just read 
one volume of Adam Bede, and am waiting to get hold of 
the second. It is very delightful. I am still sceptical as to 
the authorship \ what good authority is there ? What strikes 
me most is a spirit of criticism and scientific analysis of every 
thing into its elements : the humour is delicious ; but perhaps 
there is too much consciousness of good writing, especially in 
the descriptions. 



February i^th, 1860. 

My dear Macmillan By this post you will receive a 
specimen 3 of Simon and Co., namely the last few months 
of Simon s own life. To make it intelligible, you must 
remember thus much. After years of vain attempts to keep 

1 i.e. the Hydropathic Establishment. 2 The Idylls of the King. 

3 The Last Days of Simon de Montfort> subsequently published in 
Macmillarts Magazine, 1864. 

AGE 31 



Henry III. from misgovernment, the barons, headed by Simon, 
had come to blows with him. At the battle of Lewes in May 
of the year before, they had defeated and taken him prisoner, 
his son Prince Edward (afterwards Edward I.) surrendering 
himself as a hostage. The following February there had been 
a Parliament. Soon after this my fragment opens. The 
Earl of Gloucester had co-operated with Simon, but was now 
jealous of him, and inclined to separate from him. 

Of course very little of the earlier part of the story will be 
told with anything like the same amount of detail. Not 
many years will cover as much space as months do here. I 
ought also to say that this is somewhat of a plum ; I cannot 
expect to have much to tell of equally stirring interest. But 
still I hope you may be able to judge from it whether the thing 
is likely to do ; and I shall be glad to have your honest opinion 
about its readableness. As a piece of research, I am tolerably 
well satisfied with it so far ; and I have reason to suspect that 
the events of these months have never been thoroughly worked 
out before. It is likely enough that I may make alterations 
in it presently, as I get more matter. There are only two 
more original printed authorities that I care much to see, 
Robert of Gloucester and the Continuation of Florence of 
Worcester. But there are several modern books which I must 
examine before printing, and I quite expect to glean additions 
from MSS. at Oxford and in London. 

I don t think I can do without the references ; as the book, 
being one of research as well as a story book, must be able to 
justify itself for any unfamiliar statements. I have put the 
references in a very short form ; and, if printed small, they 
will seldom occupy more than one or two lines at the foot of 
the page. I hope to eschew all notes, except probably a 
few in small type at the end of the volume, not for boys. I 
have sent one of these as a specimen. 

You will want to know whereabouts this fragment will come 
in the book. Rather towards the end. The early part will be 
the most troublesome, and I don t yet see my way clearly about 
it. There will be, in some shape or other, I hope, Simon s 
early life ; a rapid sketch of the reign before his appearance 
on the stage; Grosseteste s early life (?A sketch of Oxford 


and Paris in the thirteenth century); the early days of the 
Friars, chiefly Franciscans, in England; Grosseteste s Episcopate 
to his death in 1253; Simon s parallel history ; Simon s 
history after Grosseteste s death till his own death in 1265, 
ending with this fragment ; that chapter being wound up with 
a very short sketch of subsequent political events ; then Roger 
Bacon, the great year of whose literary activity is just after 
Simon s death. This is my present notion. The middle will 
probably be written first ; then the beginning and end. 


February 26th, 1860. 

My dear Macmillan I am going to send the MS. to 
Westcott for his opinion on the points in dispute between us. 
He is almost the only man not of my own family who knows that 
I am writing, and is greatly interested, often asking me about it. 
He also takes particular pains to find out his boys l tastes in 


March 1st, 1860. 

... I am quite thankful that we have not been able to go 
to press yet. Almost every day I see reason to shrink from 
accepting or rejecting readings of slender but very early 
authority in any of the Gospels without a connected examina 
tion of all such readings together, as well as on their individual 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, March loth, 1860. 
[A Postscript^ 

. . . Have you read Darwin ? 2 How I should like a talk 
with you about it ! In spite of difficulties, I am inclined to 
think it unanswerable. In any case it is a treat to read such 
a book. 

1 Viz. at Harrow. 2 The Origin of Species. 

JE 31 





HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, March ioth, 1860. 
I shall be glad to know whether an article on Darwin, if 
I can manage one, would do for your Magazine. I can t now 
promise ; but for some reasons I should like to write, only 
I would not spend time on it unless I were pretty sure that 
it would serve your purpose. It would probably be mainly a 
clear popular statement of the various facts of the argument, 
put in a different form and order, and partly criticisms and 
additional illustrations of particular chapters. Very truly yours, 



HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, March \6th, 1860. 

. I am glad to be able to infer from what you say 
that you have not spoken to Masson 1 about Darwin. Since 
I wrote I have more than half repented mentioning the 
subject, I am so overwhelmed with other reading and writing. 
But I was carried away by the appetite for speech on 
such a subject, and also glad to gratify your wish for an 
article on something. But anyhow you must not keep 
the subject open for me. If any one else at all competent 
wants to write, pray let him : only let me know as soon as you 
do, that I may waste no more [time], and then I shall be only 
too thankful. Pray bear this in mind. For really I cannot 
promise to write. I will make the experiment, and that is all 
I can say. It is very bothering to write without having a 
single natural history book to refer to. ... So again, if I 
write, I will make no rash promises about the moral bear 
ings of the subject : it is a ticklish matter, and one wants 
months and months to think and read about it, or one will be 
driven to utter only brief and cloudy oracles. My first idea 
had been to have it thus : Mr. Darwin s Theory of Species 
and its Results. Part I. The Theory. Part II. The Results, 
each part in a separate number ; but at present I shrink from 
having a whole article of Results. 

1 The editor of Macmillarfs Magazine. 



HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, March \6th, 1860. 

. . . I had two long and interesting talks with Mark 
Pattison at Malvern in October. He told me distinctly that 
Jowett is going to bring out an edition of all Plato, by himself 
and his pupil-friends, but he did not know for certain whether 
it would include a translation. I thought it on the whole best 
to mention our scheme, 1 but told him we did not wish it talked 
about. He seemed much interested, and asked leave to 
mention it to Jowett, to which, of course, I assented ; at the 
same time adding that, while I did not see why the two 
schemes should clash, we certainly could claim no priority, 
having done little or nothing. 

... I shall also be glad to hear what Sedgwick, and indeed 
Cambridge in general, says to Darwin. I suppose you have 
read it ; if not, do. 


HARDWICK, April -$rd, 1860. 

. . . Have you seen H. Lushington s republished articles 
on the Italian war of 1848-9 ? Read them if you can. They 
more than ever make one feel the prophetic nature of his 
mind. Venables memoir of him is also very beautiful in 
its way, as well as curious as an inlet into the true self of 
an out-and-out Saturday Reviewer. We have also been read 
ing the Shelley Memorials with great pleasure. Mrs. Shelley 
in particular comes out wonderfully, and one only wishes 
that the editress (Lady Shelley) had given more of her letters 
and diaries. But the book which has most engaged me is 
Darwin. Whatever may be thought of it, it is a book that 
one is proud to be contemporary with. I must work out and 
examine the argument more in detail, but at present my feeling 
is strong that the theory is unanswerable. If so, it opens up 
a new period in I know not what not. 

1 See p. 349. 

AGE 32 




HARDWICK, April 2oth, 1860. 

. . . You should read the Essays and Reviews. Temple s 
is at least powerful and interesting. Mark Pattison s is, I 
think, very good, and likely to be of use to you. He 
almost ignores Clarke, W. Law, and the Cambridge Plato- 
nists ; but as to the general current of religious thought he 
seems to me quite right. Jowett is provoking as usual. I 
suppose he will do good to some in forcing honesty of criticism 
upon them, though there is perhaps not a single thought new 
to you or me ; but his blindness to a providential ordering of 
the accidents of history is very vexatious. It is curious to 
see how completely he is leavened with J. H. Newman. R. 
Williams on Bunsen is R. Williams all over, and quite worth 
reading. I have not yet touched Wilson and Baden Powell. 
C. W. Goodwin, as far as I have read, is poor enough. I read 
about three-quarters of Masson, and mean to finish him some 
day. He is, as you say, a very odd sort of a good sort of 
man ; perhaps as interesting as a man can be without one 
spark of genius. His discovery of an inward affinity be 
tween Puritanism and the literary calling is delicious. 

I hope I shall know more of Edward I. presently. I am 
quite disposed to like him, and his ability is transcendent ; but 
I fear the popular feeling of his deep-rooted falsity, at least in 
his youth, was well founded. 


April 2gt/i, 1860. 

nis youth 

. . . Smith * failing, might not we three venture to make 
a partition of the whole N. T. among ourselves? It falls 
into three portions, which contain your and Westcott s sug 
gested arrangements ; viz. the Pauline writings (including 
Hebrews) for you, the Johannine for him, and the historico- 
Judaic for me. They might be brought out by degrees, 

1 Viz. Dr. William Smith s scheme for a joint commentary. See pp. 371-2. 
VOL. I 2 E 

4 i8 



according to the following scheme. Numerically Westcott 
would have much the smallest share, and I much the largest ; 
but his is very compressed matter, and in the Synoptists 
allowance must be made for repetitions. 

I hope something will be quickly settled, for it is now 
probable that I shall have to leave England in about three 
weeks ; and I want to know about books some little time 

1st Issue. 

St. John s Gospel. 


Rom. Cor. 
Gal. Thess. 

Synoptic Gospels. 

2nd Issue. 


Eph. Phil. Col. 
Pastoral Epp. 


3rd Issue. 

St. John s Epp. 


Jac. Pet. Jud. 

A similar letter, with a copy of the above scheme, 
was sent to Mr. Westcott the same day. 


May ist, 1860. 

... I am extremely obliged to you for expressing plainly 
your doubt about my taking the Synoptic Gospels. Westcott 
gave me no hint of it at Harrow, and it is clearly essential 
that there should be no misunderstandings at starting. I will 
therefore say my say with equal plainness. 

My first feeling on reading your letter was that it might be 
better for me to withdraw at once. The scheme in its present 
form is yours. It takes up and meets an old scheme of 
Westcott s, long in abeyance but never relinquished. If I 
take part in it, it will be by your permission, not as an inde 
pendent projector. If your idea is, to have an uniform com- 

AGE 32 



mentary, which shall demonstrate that the final results of 
accurate and honest criticism do not disturb orthodox 
assumptions, you are quite right not to admit a coadjutor 
who cannot feel certain of having equal good luck. The 
integrity of your plan must take precedence of all personal 
considerations, and I should not have any reason to complain. 
At the same time, as far as I can see at present, I should 
shrink from transferring myself to other books of the N. T. in 
your scheme on the ground that you could not trust me with 
the Gospels. The difference between us, if difference there 
is, can hardly be confined to a single theory ; and I could 
not work freely at any book of the N. T., if I were under an 
obligation to produce results of a predetermined colour. 

On second thoughts, however, it seems rash to call off with 
out ascertaining distinctly whether we really are at variance. 

First as to the special point you mention. It would be 
hardly too much to say that I have as yet no theories about 
the Gospels. I remember the conversation to which you 
refer. The opinion I expressed, by no means a mature 
conviction, but merely and avowedly a tentative prima fade 
impression, related to one isolated question. Agreeing to 
the best of my belief with Westcott as to the oral or traditional 
narrative which was the common foundation of the Synoptic 
Gospels, I demurred to his explanation of the cause of its 
local limitation. I found it difficult to believe that the events 
and discourses belonging to Jerusalem were deliberately 
excluded by the Apostles (or others concerned) as unfitted 
for the then circumstances of the Church ; and I thought it 
a more natural explanation of the admitted fact to suppose 
that the first form of the narrative was a local Galilean 
tradition, which the Apostles (and others), finding ready to 
their hand, variously modified and corrected, supplying, perhaps, 
beginnings and endings, but did not go out of their way 
to supplement with matter belonging to a different cycle 
of events. This view I now hold neither more strongly nor 
more weakly than before. I have seen nothing to make me think 
it untenable ; but I have undertaken as yet no such careful 
investigations as would alone justify my setting it forth in 
print. In any case it is surely in substance by no means 


novel. I am convinced that any view of the Gospels, which 
distinctly and consistently recognises for them a natural 
and historical origin (whether under a special Divine super 
intendence or not), and assumes that they did not drop down 
ready-made from heaven, must and will be c startling to an 
immense proportion of educated English people. But so far, 
at least, Westcott and I are perfectly agreed, and I confess 
I had hoped that you too would assent. And, if thus much 
be conceded, I cannot see that my supposed view is a whit 
more startling l than Westcott s. 

But I now feel that I must say a word about more general 
principles. If you make a decided conviction of the absolute 
infallibility of the N. T. practically a sine qua non for co-opera 
tion, I fear I could not join you, even if you were willing to 
forget your fears about the origin of the Gospels. I am most 
anxious to find the N. T. infallible, and have a strong sense of 
the Divine purpose guiding all its parts ; but I cannot see how 
the exact limits of such guidance can be ascertained except by 
unbiassed a posteriori criticism. Westcott and, I suppose, 
you would say that any apparent errors discovered by criticism 
are only apparent, and that owing to the imperfection of our 
knowledge. I fully believe that this is true of a large pro 
portion of what the rasher critics peremptorily pronounce to be 
errors ; and I think it possible that it may be true of all, but, 
as far as my present knowledge goes, hardly probable. And if, 
as I expect, there are cases where there appears to be just a 
thin loophole for the possibility of admitting imperfect know 
ledge as the sole cause of an apparent error, but where the 
circumstances are such as to suggest a natural explanation of 
the origin of a real error, such as would be at once accepted 
in any other book, I should feel bound to state both facts, 
expressing at the same time my own feeling that it is more 
reasonable to suppose an error. I do not think there is a real 
difference of principle between (at least) Westcott and myself, 
but only a (perhaps hypothetical) difference of opinion as to 
facts. But you must judge whether the difference is such 
as to disqualify me for your commentary. I believe I am 
imprudent in sometimes uttering in conversation rude and 
1 See the next letter, p. 422. 

AGE 32 



premature conjectures and suspicions, which I have not yet 
had time to test and work out, and which persons of a 
more guarded temperament would probably under such 
circumstances keep to themselves. But I do not think that 
I should be rash in deliberate print, least of all in a com 
mentary on the Bible. At the same time it would be 
mere working in fetters to me to attempt an apologetic com 
mentary as such, though I have not the smallest doubt that 
most of the results would be to that effect. Also forgive my 
saying that it seems to me the truest wisdom to think as little 
as possible about disarming suspicion. Depend on it, whatever 
either you or I may say in an extended commentary, if only 
we speak our mind, we shall not be able to avoid giving grave 
offence to both Jowett s friends and the miscalled orthodoxy 
of the day. It has been not altogether to my taste to go into 
all these details ; but you will see the necessity of my doing 
so, and form your judgment on what I have said. 

Other points must wait. Your textual suggestions I should 
like to think about. But I do not quite see how they go with 
Westcott s plan of notes, without either Greek or English text, 
intelligible almost throughout to persons ignorant of Greek. 
It is plain that we have, at present, not all the same thing in 
view. Always most truly yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 

As I was writing the last words a note came from Westcott. 
He too mentions having had fears, which he now pronounces 
"groundless," on the strength of our last conversation, in 
which he discovered that I did " recognise " * Providence in 
Biblical writings. Most strongly I recognise it ; but I am not 
prepared to say that it necessarily involves absolute infallibility. 
So I still await judgment. 


May 2nd, 1860. 

My dear Westcott Your note came just as I was finishing 
a long letter to Lightfoot. He too had written expressing "a 
little hesitation about the Synoptic Gospels," in consequence 
of our former talk at Harrow, which led him to fear my pro- 


pounding "startling theories." The tenour of your present 
note makes it needless for me to write to you in equal detail, 
though he will doubtless show you the letter, if you care to see 
it. But, as doubts have been entertained, perhaps I had 
better say a word on one matter. 

I do most fully recognise the special Providence which 
controuled the formation of the canonical books : my only 
difficulty is to understand how you can have had any doubt 
about the matter, considering how often we have talked over 
subjects in which such a belief was implied if not expressed. 
Certainly the unlucky suggestion, which gave rise to your 
doubts, seems to me quite consistent with it. But I am not 
able to go as far as you in asserting the absolute infallibility of 
a canonical writing. I may see a certain fitness and probability 
in such a view, but I cannot set up an a priori assumption 
against the (supposed) results of criticism. So perhaps you 
would say in terms, at least but you would deny that the 
fair results of criticism, making allowance for our imperfect 
knowledge, prove the existence of any errors. I am as yet 
prepared neither to deny nor to assert it. I shall rejoice on 
fuller investigation to find that imperfect knowledge is a 
sufficient explanation of all apparent errors, but I do not 
expect to be so fortunate. If I am ultimately driven to admit 
occasional errors, I shall be sorry ; but it will not shake my 
conviction of the providential ordering of human elements in 
the Bible. It is perhaps possible that these words might be 
used in various senses ; but I am sure that, saving my doubts 
about infallibility, you and I mean precisely the same thing by 
them. I shall be glad to know whether, after this express 
explanation, you still are perfectly content to take me as a 
coadjutor in the commentary. The difference does not seem 
to me essential ; but you may think otherwise, and will, I am 
sure, speak freely. 

I fear that day in town left its mark on me for the rest of the 
week, and I am not very well now ; but I hardly expect much 
amendment till we get to the Alps. Ever affectionately yours, 


Lightfoot wants you to take the Hebrews, if it does not 
go to Benson. Of course I can have no objection. 



May 4/7; , 1860. 

My dear Westcott I am greatly obliged by your letter, 
which removes all my fears. Lightfoot asks me to send you 
the accompanying answer to one of mine which he was sending 
to you. You will see that I misunderstood the words and still 
more the tone of his previous letter. It is, however, needless 
to go into the particulars now, as the upshot of the correspond 
ence is to leave all clear, and, I hope, make us all understand 
each other better. My letter to you was perhaps too brief; 
but you will see that, though you " had not contemplated me 
as not being a coadjutor," / had felt that, under my then 
impression as to Lightfoot s, and perhaps your, view of the work 
I could hardly be a coadjutor. 

I quite agree that it is most essential to study each Synoptist 
by himself as a single whole. Only I should add that such a 
study soon leads one to the fact of their having all largely 
used at least one common source, and that fact becomes an 
additional element in their criticism. Their independent treat 
ment is most striking ; but it is not identical with the independ 
ence of three absolutely original writers. 

I certainly regard Dr. Smith s letter as for all practical 
purposes a release, and I shall write to him to say that I accept 
it as such as regards the Gospels, but that if he goes on with 
the scheme I shall probably be glad to take Wisdom and 
Sirach, 1 if he will let me know in good time. I hope you will 
do the same as to the rest of the Apocrypha. 

I need hardly add that I shall take out the Synoptists to 
Switzerland. But what say you as to the rest of the tripartite 
arrangement ? Ever affectionately yours, 


We three must meet and discuss details in the autumn, 
return to Hardwick on Monday. 

1 i.e. Ecclesiasticus. 




May 4//z, 1860. 

My dear Lightfoot I can hardly say how much I am 
obliged to you for your letter. You will see that my last was 
written under a great misapprehension, which could hardly 
have arisen if we had not been (unintentionally) somewhat re 
served even to each other. So pray don t be angry, even in 
the most subdued and harmless degree. 

I entirely agree with your justification of your own sup 
posed doubt. ... I am also glad that you take the same 
provisional ground as to infallibility that I do. 


May $th, 1860. 

In our rapid correspondence about the N. T. I have been 
forgetting Plato. But I should be very glad if you could 
come to some conclusions in the next week. Westcott pro 
tests against our undertaking such fresh and heterogeneous 
work, but I think we must not listen to him, even though we 
may hear some inward echo of his warnings. The first 
thing, I suppose, is to ascertain whether the Oxford plan will 
really stand in our way. So I hope that you will very soon 
write to Jowett, as you proposed. 

HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, May loth and nth, 1860. 

. . . About Darwin, I have been reading and thinking a 
good deal, and am getting to see my way comparatively clearly, 
and to be also more desirous to say something. It would in 
purport be not unlike the Saturday Review article last week, 
but touch on many other points. But it is utterly impossible 
to do anything before I go abroad, and there I can do little or 

AGE 32 



nothing for want of books of reference, which would be much 
too heavy to carry. I think it is likely enough that I should 
be glad to write after I return ; but, as I said before, don t 
consider the subject occupied, but let anybody else have his 
say, if it be worth saying. If I am so inclined on my return, 
and you are willing to accept, I shall ask you again for some 
of the books, and start afresh. The subject will be none the 
worse for churning in my mind through the summer. Except 
some Greek Testament (and perhaps Plato), I am going to give 
myself up in the Alps to botany and geology. The article, if 
written at all, will be grave, and, I venture to hope, telling. 
Most truly yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


BRIGHTON, May i8///, 1860. 

... I confess I am very doubtful about the various read 
ings. They must of course be occasionally referred to, and 
even discussed. But I believe the knowledge of authori 
ties which a person would gain from even a large number of 
select passages, as distinguished from a continuous apparatus 
like Tischendorfs, to be positively false and misleading. In a 
great number of cases it is impossible to estimate rightly the 
value, absolute or relative, of many single authorities without 
such a knowledge of their peculiar affinities and tendencies 
as can only be gained safely by observing their behaviour in 
various classes of readings, in which there is no real doubt as 
to the text of the N. T. 1 It sounds an arrogant thing to say, 
but there are very many cases in which I would not admit 
the competence of any one to judge a decision of mine on a 
textual matter, who was only an amateur, and had not had 
some considerable experience in forming a text. And it 
seems to me worse than delusive to appear to submit our 
decisions to the verdict of persons whose jurisdiction we 
challenge. The very few really competent judges will not 
need such selections of readings. 

1 See the treatment of * Internal Evidence of Documents in Westcott 
and I-Iort s Introduction, pp. 30 foil. It is interesting to note that the 
principles there formulated were already developed at this date. 



RIFFELBERG, Attgust i^th and i6M, 1860. 

.... We have been here since Saturday three weeks, and 
have had, according to every one s testimony, very much 
more than a reasonable share of bad weather of most 
kinds, and yet find the place very tolerable. I have every 
reason to be glad that we came here. At first I seemed to 
gain little or nothing, but a concurrence of circumstances 
induced us to attempt a little expedition over the snow 
nearly a fortnight ago, and I have since then been quite 
wonderfully better. I have, unfortunately, I scarcely know 
how, been able to do hardly anything but dry plants. It is 
very difficult to manage Gk. Test, here, and I have not 
touched it for some weeks, but I think I must try. We have 
now quite made up our minds to stay in the Alps as long as 
weather will permit. On the one hand, it seems pretty clear 
that they are more likely to benefit me than anything else ; 
and, on the other, I have a great deal still to regain, to say 
nothing of confirming what I have already gained. 

... I do hope some day to see Rouen in rather less hot 
haste. S. Laurent I did not see. I quite agree with your 
enjoyment of the "rich picturesqueness of foreign Gothic" as 
opposed to English flatness and meagreness, but I was disap 
pointed in not seeing nobler leading lines and more complete 
subordination and (free) purpose. 

Now about other matters. I have not seen (perhaps not 
heard of) Mr. Hebert s answer to Davies. 1 Davies own 
sermons he gave me, and I read them hastily just before 
leaving England, but have, I fear, no distinct impression of 
them. I have never been satisfied with anything of his that I 
have seen on the Atonement. I have quite agreed with his 
main purpose and doctrine, but hesitated as to some of his 
arguments, and above all felt that he left out of sight im 
portant elements which must be retained, however hard it may 
be to apprehend them rightly. If I understand you rightly, 
you would confine your own positive statements to these, that 

1 The Rev, J. LI. Davies. 

AGE 32 



we are saved by our Lord s death, and that we could not have 
been saved without it. This is the doctrine of Coleridge, 
Thomson (Bampton Lectures), and (I suppose, though I once 
understood him in a more destructive sense) Jowett. Some 
times I feel disposed to say the same, but on the whole I 
believe we may say much more. Certainly such a mere state 
ment of results seems to me very preferable to the popular 
attempts at explanation, but still it seems to me a mere pro 
duct of despairing (but not unbelieving) speculation opposed 
to the actual revelations made to us in the Bible. To me the 
necessity being Divine does not appear sufficient reason for 
our not being able to apprehend its nature, as I do not admit 
your (?) axiom that man cannot know God as He is. It is of 
course true that we can only know God through human forms, 
but then I think the whole Bible echoes the language of 
Gen. i. 27, and so assures us that human forms are Divine 
forms. In this respect I quite hold with Davies. Again, I 
quite agree in your low estimate of current notions of justice, 
but I think they are just as inapplicable to man as to God. I 
think them inadequate, not because they are human, but 
because they are derived from one part only, and that the 
most accidental and least universal part, of man. The im 
perfect notions of human justice into which we are prone to 
fall need to be corrected by what we can discern of the 
Divine justice. I do not pretend to be able to explain many 
perplexing facts any better than other people, but I think that 
many of the current difficulties arise from taking jural rather 
than moral justice as a standard, and that we have much to 
learn respecting moral justice. E.g. the facts recorded in the 
Bible seem to me to show that it is not unjust (i) that the 
innocent should suffer, and (2) that the suffering of the inno 
cent should be the benefit of the guilty ; and the experience 
of human life seems to me to confirm the same. But this is 
a very different thing from taking a human explanation or in 
terpretation of the facts (as the forensic plan of salva 
tion ) as itself a criterion of justice. That suffering may be a 
necessary consequence of sin, " quite apart from free forgive 
ness," I most fully believe, and so I think does Davies. But 
surely the essence of the Atonement must consist in the for- 


giveness itself, and not in the abolition of such suffering ; 
whether it involves at all any such abolition, I cannot yet 
make up my mind. Perhaps we may be too hasty in assum 
ing an absolute necessity of absolutely proportional suffering. 
I confess I have no repugnance to the primitive doctrine of a 
ransom paid to Satan, though neither am I prepared to give 
full assent to it. But I can see no other possible form in 
which the doctrine of a ransom is at all tenable ; anything is 
better than the notion of a ransom paid to the Father. 

You will probably gather from this what answer I must 
give to your question about the Essays. To anything doc 
trinal of which is at all representative, I can give only 

the most decided refusal. I know him and in some respects 
like him ; but I feel orthodox unbelief to be worse than 
heretical unbelief. A sermon which he preached and printed 
against Jowett annoyed me almost as much as anything I 
ever read. But, putting him aside, I could not consent to 
join in any volume of essays which could be plausibly re 
garded as simply an orthodox protest against the Essays 
and Reviews. Probably I should agree with you in all 
essential points as to their shortcomings and positive errors, 
and perhaps also as to the amount of truth which they con 
tain ; but I do not know whether you feel as strongly as I do 
as to the extreme importance of that side of truth which they 
exhibit. It is familiar enough to us, but there are very many 
to whom it is new, and to whom it will be valuable. You will 
say that they will receive injury by taking truth and error 
mixed, and I feel the same, and therefore think that we 
ought to try to set forth the simple or rather twofold truth. 
But such a volume as you speak of would be accepted by 
both sides as simply polemical against the E. and R., and to 
this I could not consent. The E. and R. seem to me 
to believe very much more of truth than their (so-called) 
orthodox opponents, and to be incomparably greater lovers 
of truth, and a triumph given to the latter seems to me by 
no means a triumph to what we both hold to be precious 
truth. This objection need not perhaps apply to a volume 
written entirely by ourselves and a few who agree with us, 
and, if such a scheme is persevered in, I should at least like 

AGE 32 



to hear what is proposed. But unless you use E. and R. 
merely as a symbolical expression there is scarcely anything 
to grapple with in the whole volume except principles of 
Biblical interpretation, which are, I think, better dealt with 
by the way than in a controversial volume. You have had 
your say in your Introduction to the Gospels, I hope to 
have mine (which will differ considerably in form though not 
much, I think, in substance) in the Preface to the Synop- 
tists. Do we need anything more, as far as we our 
selves are concerned ? Jowett surely set a good example in 
first exhibiting his principles as applied to an actual com 
mentary. If, on the other hand, you are thinking of dealing 
with such questions as are discussed in Jowett s Essays 
generally, I do not say that it may not be well for us to 
write upon them (though here also I am rather in favour of 
indirect dealing with them) ; but I should be still more 
anxious that the volume should be obviously as much sympa 
thetic with Jowett and his friends as antagonistic to them. 
They reject much which we know we can ill afford to lose, 
but it is from a misdirected zeal for truth and for God s 


CHELSEA RECTORY, October gt/i, 1860. 

Here we are once more in England, to our great satis 
faction. After consulting with my doctor, I have resolved to 
try returning to St. Ippolyts (probably in about a month) 
under strict orders not to try myself overmuch. I am a 
great deal better than when I left England, but I must still 
be very careful. 


IlARDWlCK, October \\th, 1860. 

. . . Unfortunately I do not know any of the country 
which you have been visiting. If I understand your meaning 
right, I believe I should quite agree with you : that is, it 
seems to me hardly a paradox to say that all formations what- 


ever are local. But I do not think this class of phenomena 
has been neglected by Lyell and his school, whatever the 
earlier generalizers may have done. You must tell me more 
about it, however, when we meet. I fear further thought 
through the summer has only deepened my impressions as to 
the origin of species by some sort of development; an ex 
tremely interesting conversation which I had with Owen 
walking down from Breuil to Chatillon tended greatly in the 
same direction. 


HARDWICK, October i$th, 1860. 

My dear Westcott I protest that I do understand the 
eloquence of silence, when it is a speaking silence ; nor was I 
forgetful of your preference for the golden over the silver mode 
of communication. But I have, I confess, no gift of inter 
preting a silence which will bear four or five different meanings 
equally well. 

. . . To-day s post brought also your letter to the Eggisch- 
horn, which I should have been very sorry to have missed. I 
entirely agree correcting one word with what you there say 
on the Atonement, having for many years believed that " the 
absolute union of the Christian (or rather, of man) with Christ 
Himself" is the spiritual truth of which the popular doctrine of 
substitution is an immoral and material counterfeit. But I 
doubt whether that answers the question as to the nature of 
the satisfaction. Certainly nothing can be more unscriptural 
than the modern limiting of Christ s bearing our sins and 
sufferings to His death ; but indeed that is only one aspect of 
an almost universal heresy. 

I do not see why the inconceivableness of a beginning is 
any argument against any theory of development. The 
contrary theory is simply a harsh and contradictory attempt to 
conceive a beginning. That we are in doubt about the early 
history of organic life arises not from an impotence of con 
ception, but from the mere fact that we were not there to see 
what, if it were taking place now, we certainly could see. 

VGE 32 


The beginning of an individual is precisely as inconceivable 
as the beginning of a species, yet up to a certain point we can 
go confessedly as to the growth of the individual : that is, we 
know something of the individuals that gave it birth, and also 
of itself soon after its birth. The same conditions essentially 
hold good of species, the only difference being that the 
evidence is dead, partly decayed, and partly capable of 
different interpretations. It certainly startles me to find you 
saying that you have seen no facts which support such a view 
as Darwin s. But I do see immense difficulties in his theory, 
some of which might by this time have been removed, if he 
had understood more clearly the conditions of his problem, 
and made experiments accordingly. But it seems to me the 
most probable manner of development, and the reflexions 
suggested by his book drove me to the conclusion that some 
kind of development must be supposed. Owen s view I 
found to be precisely the same, except that he prefers the 
Vestiges^- to Darwin without having any certainty as to either. 
He has no doubt in his own mind of the upward development 
of all species, though he thinks it not yet capable of being 
scientifically proved, and is very angry with Darwin for rushing 
prematurely in the face of the bigoted and unprepared public. 
This was what I had suspected from some enigmatical phrases 
in his last books, and still more in his article in the Edinburgh, 
and asked him the question point-blank, so that he could not 
evade it. It was very difficult to ascertain precisely what he 
thought of Natural Selection : my total impression was that he 
saw great difficulties in its application to the extent of Darwin s 
theory, and regarded it as at present little more than a deeply 
interesting guess, which Darwin had as yet done little or 
nothing to test, but which deserved a thorough investigation. 
He also admitted spontaneous generation as morally certain, 
though hardly yet sufficiently proved ; and, sneering much at 
Darwin s single miraculous primaeval cell, he expressed a con 
viction that cells capable of endless upward development are 
constantly being produced, so that the sum total of organic 
nature has not one initial point but innumerable. Indeed one 
could hardly read Darwin s book without being struck with 
1 Vestiges of Creation. 


the arbitrariness of his contrary assumption. It was a deeply 
interesting conversation. ... I have rarely met any one who 
so impressed me with his simple greatness : the entire absence 
of pretence or oracularness and the natural and thorough 
enjoyment of whatever came before him were also very 
striking. He seemed to me to have genuine and original 
religious convictions ; but the tone of his random allusions to 
Genesis did not please me ; it was, however, I think, chiefly 
the annoyance of a man who had been much bored with silly 
attempts at * reconciliation. 

I am afraid Owen is not so sceptical 1 as you seem at 
present inclined to wish ; but his reserve in print is so great 
that you might very naturally claim him. 

P.S. Perhaps my wishes for the Italians go farther than 
yours ; nor do I quite see my way as to what is or is not 
lawful for Italians under such anomalous circumstances. But 
I fear I must in the main agree with you. Cavour seems 
not now only but always to have a genuine Napoleonic dis 
belief in anything but lies and bayonets, and not to know what 
morality means. In England what is said and done in Italian 
matters follows naturally from the general subordination of 
right to vague feeling, which is gaining ground so rapidly : the 
fruits will some day no doubt be bitter enough, though just 
now in regard to Italy they are to me, I confess, chiefly 


HARDWICK, CHEPSTOW, October i8//$, 1860. 

... I have not done so much observing on Darwin this 
summer as I hoped, but I have thought about it a good deal, 
though I do not yet see my way clearly on some important 
points. As far as I know, nothing comprehensive has been 
written as yet really to the point, for or against, but I don t 
think I shall attempt it for your Magazine. One thing is want 
of time, as my leisure will be fully taken up with Greek Testa 
ment and Grosseteste and Co. The mere writing would take 
much time ; but the fact is, writing on that subject, as I must 
1 Viz. as to Darwin s theory. 

AGE 32 




do if I write at all, will be a very serious matter and must give 
great offence, so that I ought not to put pen to paper without 
a great deal more of actual reading than I have yet managed. 
Another thing is, that I can t and won t gossip in print about 
the matter ; it is far too serious, and I can only write seriously 
about it ; in other words, I can only, in discussing the theory, 
go into it on pure grounds of science with minute scientific 
details, and in discussing the results go regularly in for theo 
logy. All this would make it both too heavy and too long 
for your Magazine. 

ksr. IPPOLYTS, November gf/i, 1860. 
I wish I could take a hopeful view of the roughness 
3rs which struck us so much this year abroad. Part 
of it is, no doubt, mere manners ; but over and over again we 
were compelled to see it to be the expression of utter selfish 
ness and disregard of others. There was no mistaking the 
fact that good manners are not only originally the conventional 
exponent of consideration for others or, as Kingsley truly in 
terprets St. Paul, charity, but also in their turn conservative 
of it. We had rare opportunities for observation, remaining 
quietly fixed at the Riffel for a month and watching the daily 
stream of travellers of all nations. It is but right to say 
that I thought there was an improvement in the manners of 
English people, at least of the less educated and refined of 

Another last word on Darwin. It is not * statistics that 
are wanted, but the scientific question is a very complicated 
one far more complicated than Darwin seems to have any 
idea and cannot be discussed to the least profit without much 
scientific detail, such as your readers would not stand. The 
difficulty about the theological part is different. Yours is not 
a theological magazine, though you admit a sort of allusive 
treatment of theology. But, to discuss this matter properly, 
one must go in for a thorough theological discussion, less 
popular even than the Assays and Reviews. However, I shall 
not let the subject drop in a hurry, or, to speak more correctly, 

VOL. I 2 F 


it will not let me drop. It has completely flung me back into 
Natural Science. Not that I had ever abandoned it either in 
intention or altogether in practice. But now there is no 
getting rid of it any more than of a part of oneself. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, December nth, 1860. 

... Do not think me wholly devoted to textual criticism. 
I am apt to be engrossed with what is at the time in hand, 
and I am deliberately anxious to get the text done in order to 
be more free for other work. But I am also engaged on 
Simon de Montfort, and never lay aside more serious matters, 
though it may be only in a desultory way that I deal with 
them. I think it will be necessary to lay down a fixed division 
of time. 

Once more, I am quite ready to believe that you are right 
in thinking that we ought to gird ourselves at once to definite 
thought and writing in behalf of the truth ; though, if left to 
myself, I might drift along for some time to come without 
immediate action. 

Nevertheless your note raises doubts, which I will try to 
state candidly, trusting to you not to misunderstand me. The 
doubts refer to your proposal for a joint publication of 
preliminary essays separate from the Commentary. The 
more I have thought over my own part in the Commentary, 
the more impossible I have felt it to make myself intelligible 
without a very full, though if possible very condensed, 
introduction, containing more than is usually found in such 
a place. Some topics would be general, some critical and 
special ; but few of them could be treated satisfactorily 
without being both one and the other. I will put down some 
that have occurred to me, without attempting any order. The 
origin of the Gospels Their common traditional basis and 
their distinctive modifications and additions The lesson of 
the exact historical and chronological fact when it can be 
ascertained, and the lessons of the several representations of 
it and associations connected with it in the several Gospels 


The quotations from the O. T., involving the nature of 
prophecy The doctrine of Messiah, not only among 
contemporary Jews, but much more (to this I attribute 
special importance) as traced progressively through the O. T. 
The critical problem presented by the Gospels as an historical 
phenomenon, and the various ways of attempting it, e.g. given 
the impossibility of a miracle, to explain the existence of our 
records, or, given their literal truth, to discover what they do 
and do not say, and deduce the consequences, or various 
intermediate ways of putting the question, involving a 
discussion of how much weight external evidence to a 
miraculous record can possibly bear The nature of miracles 
in general, and the relation of those in the N. T. to those in 
the O. T. in particular Demoniacal possession The order 
of events in our Lord s life The necessity of not limiting the 
Incarnation in interpreting the Gospels (e.g. in Mark xiii. 32, 
Luke ii. 52) The principles of N. T. lexicography, especially 
the deduction of theological terms from O. T. usage, usually 
through the medium of the LXX. Generally the principle 
that the N. T. is written in terms of the O. T., etc. 

These and probably other like topics I feel that I should 
have to assume and merely illustrate in the Commentary 
itself, and therefore must lay down concisely but clearly and 
methodically beforehand. Now there is scarcely any question 
raised by Jowett and Co. which would not necessarily be 
discussed under these heads. And to make such an 
introduction satisfactory for my purpose, I think it must be 
in my own language throughout. I hope and believe we 
should agree in a large majority of at least the most essential 
points, but every one has his own habits of mind, and I should 
not feel that, e.g., your published book would represent what I 
should wish to say in my own person; it is difficult to go 
into particulars, but, e.g. t its tone is what for want of a better 
word I must call too * apologetic for my own purpose. It 
is an obvious objection to this wish of mine that owing to the 
accident of the first books falling to my share, I am virtually 
supposed to write an introduction for all three of us. I feel 
this objection very strongly, and therefore shall be thankful 
for your and Lightfoot s honest wishes on the matter. On 


the other hand, you have already in a great measure said 
your say in your Introduction; and I do not know whether 
Lightfoot would wish to have a separate exposition. If he 
does, he would still have an opportunity, as beginning the 
Epistles. I should in any case submit any introduction of 
mine to you both, and endeavour to remove any non-essentials 
which either of you might object to, besides of course stating 
that no one but myself was responsible for what I wrote. 
Further, the Synoptists do involve a far greater number of 
points for discussion than any other book, and weighty 
questions are brought there to a more direct issue. Thus 
it seems to me that a good deal may be urged in favour of 
what is prima fade an unfair arrangement ; but neither you 
nor Lightfoot must scruple to express freely any contrary 
feeling. It does not seem to me that it would be well first 
to publish a separate volume of introductory essays, and then 
to repeat introductory matter of the same kind before the 
Commentary itself; but this particular point, I confess, I am 
not so clear about. Also, waiving the doubt whether it would 
be satisfactory to refer back to what would partly be the 
writing of others, I think it would be very awkward in the 
Commentary to have to refer to a separate book published 
some time before, which would probably not be in the hands 
of many readers, for three will buy a Commentary to one who 
will buy essays. Lastly, I cannot but think that Jowett s plan 
was a good one, of exemplifying his principles at once in an 
actual Commentary. 

These are my doubts, which I do not at all wish you to 
take as final. For I am quite open to conviction, and you 
may be able to suggest some plan not open to similar objections. 
It would be a good thing if we could have some conversation : 
is it quite impossible, text apart ? I have off and on much 
annual parish business till Christmas, and Butler comes, I hope, 
for about ten days at the beginning of the year ; for the rest I 
have no engagement, and this would be a good middle point 
for you and Lightfoot. In fact we ought to meet, if it were 
only to settle the plan of the Commentary. I quite feel with 
you that we are in a very critical state of things. The Essays 
and Reviews have, I think, flung back into mere orthodox 

AGE 32 



assertion many who were feeling their way onwards, and such 
views will on the other hand be accepted widely as the utmost 
now tenable. Our own position is becoming more unpopular, 
but also, I think, more important. And yet, as you say, it is 
a fearful thing to have to write on subjects in which every 
fresh thought only reveals to us our own ignorance. But 
that, I suppose, after a time ceases to be an argument for 


ST. IPPOLYTS, December 13^, 1860. 

Jowett, at least, has no right to accuse us of inaction, 
considering how much older a man he was before he put pen 
to paper. Also Westcott ought to cover many shortcomings. 
. . . Those fellows don t know what work means, and they 
fancy that the weightiest questions of criticism can be dashed 
off without work. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, December i^tk, 1860. 

Pray look at my letter again and see that you misunder 
stood what I said about our position becoming unpopular and 
suspected. I gave it as a reason for writing, not for silence. 
I think it very necessary to keep constantly in mind that 
popularity is no measure of usefulness, and very often a 
hindrance to it. 

Will you let me ask you, without cavilling at words, 
whether the phrase " a true mean " accurately represents your 
own present wish ? I am sure we are substantially agreed on 
this head, and yet I could not use this language. Surely 
there is no mean between reason and authority. Does not 
the mischief consist in their separation rather than the excess 
of either? The distinction seems to me important not only 
in itself but in reference to the conviction of others, especially 
young men. It would be a pity needlessly to alienate just 
the most sincere and earnest seekers after truth by introducing 


the notion of a compromise in matters of belief. Surely the 
via media belongs rightly to practice, not to speculation. 

Now that you have explained your plan more distinctly, I 
feel that my doubts are scarcely applicable, though on the 
whole I am glad that I sent them to you. The division of 
subjects which you suggest had not occurred to me for our 
present purpose, and I doubt whether it could be improved. 
I agree with you that they are distinct from a commentary, 
but I think also they must be explicitly presupposed in one ; 
and, as far as I see at present, I could not with satisfaction to 
myself write notes on the Gospels without a preliminary state 
ment in my own words. This difficulty may, however, be 
met by the distribution of parts. I have little doubt that you 
would like yourself to take the middle division, miracle and 
history, and Lightfoot would probably agree with me in 
wishing you to take it. Certainly I should shrink from under 
taking to write in a few months on some of the most essential 
points of that subject. The first and third divisions belong, 
in a manner, to the Synoptists and St. Paul respectively. But 
it would meet my difficulty best, and be otherwise advanta 
geous, if Lightfoot and I were to change parts in the essays. 
We could then each have his respective say in the Com 
mentary without repetition ; and I think increased good might 
be done by the same subject being treated independently 
by two different minds agreeing in the same general principles, 
the principles themselves might thus be seen to be independ 
ent of idiosyncrasy. Further, overwhelming as it is to have 
to write upon any of these subjects, ever so roughly and 
tentatively, within a few months, I think I could undertake 
the third with rather less preparation than the first. But this 
is a point for further consideration, and above all for consult 
ing Lightfoot. I should like the first division to include all 
the preparation for the Gospel, heathen as well as Jewish, the 
1 prerogative position of Israel being of course clearly main 
tained, indeed the one is, I think, necessary for the exhibition 
of the other. 

You will see that I am prepared to take up the plan as 
decidedly as you can wish. But I think it essential that we 
should very emphatically preface the essays with a statement 




that we do not intend them as the best approximations to a full 
and satisfactory exposition of the truth that we can make, believ 
ing that longer and more careful study is needed for that pur 
pose, but as a rough though careful declaration of so much as 
we have thus far been enabled to see, which the critical state 
of theological opinion induces us to publish thus prematurely. 



ST. IPPOLYTS, February 12th, 1861. 

It was a great satisfaction to get your question about 
E. and R. It has been much on my mind of late, though, 
not feeling hopeful about it, I have said and done nothing. 
But the matter is very serious, and I am quite disposed to 
think it is worth making an effort, even if not so successful as 
we could wish. . . . 

[A Suggested Declaration^ 

We, the undersigned clergymen of the Church of England, 
desire to protest publicly against the violent and indiscriminate 
agitation now being directed against a book called Essays and 
Reviews, and against the authors of it. Believing that the 
suppression of free criticism must ultimately be injurious to 
the cause of truth and religion, we especially regret the adop 
tion of a harsh and intolerant policy, which tends to deter 
men of thought and learning from entering the ministry of the 
Church, and to impel generous minds into antagonism to the 
Christian faith. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, February 15^, 1861. 

... It is perhaps true that I feel the errors of the E. 
and R. less keenly than you do. It appears to me tolerably 
certain that I have a stronger sense of their truths. 

Also a distinct matter I am probably less able than you 
to condemn decidedly the course they have adopted in pre 
cipitating a crisis. That is, while I should myself (even if I 


had shared their opinions) probably have thought it on the 
whole wisest to refrain, 1 I still feel they have very strong 
grounds for their conduct, and I do not altogether trust my 
own caution. 

Both these considerations, however their truths or errors 
and their policy are surely beside the present question. I 
think we need not discuss the comparative * guilt of them 
selves and their accusers. They happen at this moment to 
represent the cause of freedom of thought and criticism, and 
that fact constitutes the greater part of their claim on our 
sympathy and help. A league is forming between the 
Evangelicals and the High Churchmen to crush all belief not 
founded solely on tradition, and, if possible, to drive from the 
Church all who, whether orthodox or not, value truth above 
orthodoxy. The danger seems to me great and immediate. 
Perhaps there is no way of meeting it. But even a weakly 
signed protest, if it either had some prominent names at the 
head or were taken from a well -selected area, might be of 
some avail. I wish it were possible to have an Oxford and 
Cambridge Conference. Surely in maintaining a purely 
defensive position it is not needful to give prominence to our 
differences from E. and R. 

I quite think that E. and R. did write (not exactly appeal) 
ad populum ; they give [as] reason for doing so the uneasy 
scepticism among the populus, which threatens to destroy 
their Christian faith altogether. But that means the readers 
of such books in libraries. The present agitation is forcing 
it before others. However, that I think a light evil beside 
the conspiracy of ckrus and populus to destroy whatever 
threatens their repose. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, Febritary \$th> 1861. 

... I see I wrote to you from Villard. ... On 
July 2oth we reached Zermatt, and the 2ist, the Riffel, 

1 See pp. 399-401. 

AGE 32 



where we at once resolved to stay, and there we did stay 
till August 2oth. A strange time it was, very pleasant 
in the rare intervals of fine weather, but not at all so 
within doors. The house is small and badly built, the salle 
wretchedly small, not large enough to accommodate even the 
twenty-eight occupants of beds, and the bedrooms narrow 
wooden cells. The cold we did not find extreme ; but the 
noise, confusion, and want of comfort were a good lesson in 
patience ; some of our worst annoyances came from the bad 
manners of tourists, chiefly Germans, German Swiss, and 
Americans : the English, even of the vulgar majority, behaved 
surprisingly well. It was a curious study of mankind to 
be fixed there for a month while the stream of travellers 
flowed by. One great pleasure was the number of friends 
we saw, and others we made. Some of the best of the latter 
were W. E. Forster of Burley, and his wife, Arnold s eldest 
daughter Jane. We had a very happy visit from Frederick 
and Arthur Blunt, with James of Cheltenham and the Bodleys 
(one of them the architect). Frederick Blunt stayed behind 
after the rest, and, though temporarily lame, was most anxious 
to do something. So it was settled that we three should 
attempt the Cima di Jazzi, the easiest of the real snow 
mountains, some 12,000 feet high, but commanding a splendid 
view of M. Rosa and down into Italy. After leaving the 
Riffel we slept one night at Zermatt, and then crossed the 
main chain of the Alps by the Col de S. Theodule. We 
stayed at Breuil, at the head of the Val Tournanche. . . . 
The last two days we had there Mr. and Mrs. Cole (the Lady 
who toured round M. Rosa ), and with them Owen, and on 
the Monday we all descended the Val Tournanche together 
to Chatillon in the Val d Aosta. You may imagine what a 
treat it was to have a good talk (or, as he called it, a 
Platonic Dialogue ) with Owen under such circumstances. 
I was able to catechise him to my heart s content, and fully 
verified my belief that he could not possibly differ from 
Darwin either in the manner or to the extent that the sapient 
public supposes. As I feared, it is but too plain that he is 
wanting in more than one respect ; but still he is a magnificent 
man, as truly a king as old Sedgwick. 


... I have been induced to begin a fresh undertaking, 
about which, however, you must keep dead silence. Essays 
and Reviews are producing apparently such rapid effects in 
opposite directions, leading some to give up revelation, and 
driving others back to the merest traditionalism, that, at 
Westcott s suggestion, he, Lightfoot, and I have resolved to 
attempt a mediating volume. It will not be at all con 
troversial, but simply try to state what we believe to be the 
truth on both sides. It is to be called Revelation and History. 
Lightfoot takes the preparation for the Gospel, i.e. the 
stages of Jewish history, the work of the different nations 
of antiquity, and the special calling of Israel. Westcott takes 
* the witness of God in His Son, in short, the Incarnation as 
an historical revelation of God, especially with reference to 
miracles. I am to take the development of doctrine out of 
revelation, including the progress within the N. T. and going 
on to the epochs of Church History since the close of the 
Canon, especially showing the growth of a Scripture and of its 
use. When at Harrow, we also settled more definitely about 
our Commentary. It is to have a Greek (and perhaps English) 
text, with but one set of notes. They are to be very full, but 
in most cases exclude the discussion of other people s 
opinions. They will unavoidably contain much Greek, but 
be framed as far as possible for English readers. We have 
agreed to defer the Gospels till last. We are not without 
hopes of publishing each a part next year, I, St. James, St. 
Peter, and St. Jude; Westcott, St. John s Epistles; and Lightfoot 
his Prolegomena to all St. Paul and his Commentary on 
Thessalonians and perhaps Corinthians. 

There is another way in which these Essays and Reviews 
are troubling one just now. The agitation against them 
seems growing to a most dangerous height, and may do 
untold mischief. I wish I could see what is to be done to 
stop it. Westcott also is anxious. He thinks it would not 
be possible to get enough signatures to any protest against 
the agitation ; but I am still hoping something may be done. 
Altogether times are getting very critical. 

Then, to keep us warm, there is the prospect of a French 
invasion of Prussia, and, for our part in the affair, prize essays 

AGE 32 



from Lord John till Prussia is exhausted and the little states 
have left her in the lurch, and then perhaps we may discover 
that we are somewhat concerned. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, February zSf/i, 1861. 

. What an unreal and absolutely unsatisfactory debate 
it was in Convocation on Essays and Reviews I Who would 
have supposed, from reading the report of it, that any of 
the questions started were capable of any answer but one, 
or that the speakers were anything but the representatives of 
an unanimous Christendom ? Surely this wretched paltering 
with great questions must soon come to an end, or else the 
Church itself. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, March ist, 1861. 

... I, too, have come to feel that just now we must 
acquiesce in silence as to E. and R., though I am prepared 
for its becoming necessary to stand forward. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, April isf, 1861. 

My dear Lightfoot I delayed answering your note till I 
should hear from Westcott, which I have not done till this 
morning. I cannot say what a disappointment it has been to 
receive such an announcement. 1 After what has already 
passed it seems hopeless to ask you to reconsider your 
decision. All that you say of yourself is precisely my own 
experience ; but I force myself to forget it in the face of the 
great urgency, increased, I fear, rather than diminished, 
by the prospect of Aids to Faith. I wrote a hasty line 
to Westcott on Saturday suggesting his taking your part with 
his own; though I think a third person would be preferable, 

1 i.e. of Lightfoot s withdrawal from the proposed rm-di.iting volnim-. 


if such an one could be found; but a line from him this 
morning implies the probable abandonment of the whole 
scheme ; and I confess I think it must come to that. 

Up to this time my results consist of some half-dozen 
beginnings, not one of which can stand. But I am sure that, 
unprepared as we all are, we could all say something that would 
be of use to quiet readers, though it would have no effect on 
the controversy, except perhaps to draw down fresh fury. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, April gtk, 1861. 

. . . Our joint essay scheme falls to the ground, as Light- 
foot declines his share, solely as beyond his time and present 
powers. Whether Westcott and I do anything with our parts, 
each separately, remains in doubt ; but, indeed, Haden s 
advice 1 makes havoc among all my plans for books. 

I have just finished Maine s book on Ancient Law. It 
looks technical, and requires some elementary knowledge of 
legal terms and history ; but it is not really difficult, except 
by its condensation. As might be expected, it bears deeply 
on several weighty matters, and, though the public are hardly 
likely to find it out, is, I think, quite as important as Essays 
and Reviews. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, April \2th, 1861. 

... As touching the essays, I should much like to 
know your own intention as soon as you have formed it ; 
whether you mean to publish a separate essay. If so, 
whether it will be of the same range as before. Independently 
of change of mode of life, I feel less courage than before. 
Doubts recur whether I have a distinct call to write. It was 
quite otherwise while the joint scheme lasted. The responsi 
bility was divided, and the call seemed strong, if not clear. It 
is a serious matter to take one s first plunge into separate pub 
lication by means of such a subject, above all when I know 

1 See P . 378. 

AGE 33 



how meagre and inadequate the result will be. Also but 
this may be cowardice I have a sort of craving that our text 
should be cast upon the world before we deal with matters 
likely to brand us with suspicion. I mean, a text, issued by 
men already known for what will undoubtedly be treated as 
dangerous heresy, will have great difficulties in finding its way 
to regions which it might otherwise hope to reach, and whence 
it would not be easily banished by subsequent alarms. Of 
course I felt this doubt all along, but made it give way to the 
necessities of our joint plan of essays; now, however, it 
returns upon me. On the other hand, the desire to write 
does not abate. Perhaps we had better act quite independ 
ently ; though if we should both write, it would seem desirable 
to publish, if possible, at the same time and in the same form. 
Please comment. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, May ibth, 1861. 

. . I quite feel the importance of something being said 
on the scientific matter, and have a strong craving to 
write myself. But it is too ticklish a matter to write on in 
a hurry, for fear one should say what will not stand testing, 
and I want much more time and thought. Also a tract 
would not at all serve my purpose. What I should dream 
of would be a book, half of it pure science, and the other 
half theological discussion. I want both, first because I 
care for the scientific question only less than for the theo 
logical ; and secondly, because I should be glad, if I could, to 
gain the ear of scientific people for the theology. Tracts few 
of them will read or attend to. Even were it otherwise, I 
could promise nothing now. I am going abroad for five 
months, when I could at best write only a rough draft, such 
as nothing would tempt me to send to the press without an 
amount of reading which would require some months more at 
home. However, if I know myself, I am silent now only in 
order to be able to speak with more effect hereafter. Very 
truly yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 



VAL FURVA, NEAR BORMIO, July i$t/i, 1861. 

. . . While I think of it, let me say that I left at Chelsea 
for you a packet of Alpine plants. We dried last year for 
our friends a few sets of the plants, at once small, best to 
look at, and best retaining their colours ; and this is one of 
them. . . . 

On Friday June 7th we started from London Bridge. . . . 
About 36 hours carried us from London to Chur. I forgot 
to mention that on our way to town we were lucky enough to 
meet John Ball, our late Alpine president, and got various 
useful hints from him. Also we travelled from Basle to 
Olten with Tuckett, another great Alpine man, who is specially 
great in minimum thermometers. He was a sight to see, 
being hung from head to foot with notions in the strictest 
sense of the word, several of them being inventions of his 
own. Besides such commonplace things as a great axe-head 
and a huge rope and thermometers, he had two barometers, a 
sympiesometer, and a wonderful apparatus, pot within pot, for 
boiling water at great heights, first for scientific and then for 
culinary purposes. Let us hope the apparatus will have pro 
duced some results by the end of the summer. The journey 
was in several parts new to me. . . . Chur itself is a pleasant 
old city (a small one enough) at the mouth of a ravine, and a 
little raised above the Rhine valley. There was much less to 
see architecturally than I expected. The cathedral is not 
striking ; but there are many curious things in and about 
it, dating from very early times, some parts probably Roman, 
and much early Lombard. 


CLIFTON, October i6tk, 1861. 

... I have only dipped into Zeller, 1 but have liked what I 
have seen of it ; it seemed less viewy ; than any other German 

1 Zeller s Philosophic der Griechen. 



book on the subject. I should quite think you are right 
about the absence of any such book as you speak of. For 
many years it has been with me not only a dream, but perhaps 
my most constant and prominent dream, to deal with the 
course of Greek thought, as a necessary introduction to the 
history of the Church. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, November 2$t/i, 1861. 

. . . Seriously, my dear Ellerton, I know not what to say 
to what you report of yourself in your long letter, except 
that I know it all exactly, and entirely feel with you. Only 
I must say, just as you know yourself, don t give in to 
it. That money trouble is perhaps the worst of all ; but it 
does not mend matters brooding over it. I am obliged to 
spend much time at parts of the year at getting accounts 
clearly and fully made out, which is the most essential thing 
both for economy and for peace of mind. But when that is 
done, it is worse than useless going over the same thing again, 
pottering over figures, in a dim [hope] that somehow or 
other 2 and 3 can be induced not to make 5. Comfort 
should begin when one has once realized the existence of the 
brazen wall that hems one in : one can t get on without a 
little Islamism. As touching the cry of * literary work, that 
is all true too ; it is just what I always find with sermons. 
The brain won t secrete to order. The only remedy I know 
is to take some definite material and study that. Research is 
possible when invention and composition are not. It is worth 
while to remember Fynes Clinton, whose work began as a 
sedative on his first wife s death-. He needed the sedative all 
his life through ; but research did give him calm and steadi 
ness, and the Fasti*** are the result for the world. . . . 

I must say the Hughesian Tracts 2 do not satisfy me at all. 
They go about it and about it, anywhere but where their 
antagonists are. The tone of Chretien s is very beautiful, and 
there are many to whom it might be useful, though it leaves 

1 Fasti Hdlenici and F. Romani. 

2 On Essays and Reviews. 


everything unsolved. Ludlow is always interesting, if sometimes 
provoking. But one gets very weary of the fainter and fainter 
echoes of Maurice all through the series. The most really 
pertinent saying of the whole, I think, is Maurice s own, that 
much current error comes merely from recognising the fact of 
Law and ignoring the fact of Will. The notice in the 
Guardian gave me a pleasant impression of Garbett s book. I 
confess I have at present no wish to see any more of the 
replies. For Jowett himself, much as he vexes me with his 
lazy taking on trust of objections, and general deference to the 
sceptical section of public opinion, I find I have an increasing 
love. There are things in his essays (not in E. and R. ) which 
meet the real ultimate difficulties better than anything I know. 
It is at once Maurice s strength and his weakness that he can 
approach nothing except from the purely theological side : all 
other aspects he tolerates and even approves in words, but 
they remain outside of him. This is an unlucky defect for 
just the present state of controversy. 

I hope you saw Lightfoot s election to the new Hulsean 
Professorship vacated by Ellicott. It was really a critical 
thing for Cambridge. . . . He talks of beginning with some 
of St. Paul s Epistles, but eventually making the history of the 
fourth and fifth centuries his main subject. 

While I think of it, let me remind you that Luard is stand 
ing for the Registraryship. He is about the best man in the 
University for it, from his extraordinary knowledge of University 


ST. IPPOLYTS, December 4//z, 1861. 

... It would not be easy to say how much I felt about 
Lightfoot s election. I am afraid any other result would have 
greatly estranged me from Cambridge. Curiously enough, I 
was within a few minutes of hearing the news first from 
himself. . . . 

Now about the Philosophy, 1 on which I have followed 

1 The allusion is to an article on Philosophy contributed by Mr. 
Westcott to the Dictionary of the Bible. 




your injunctions. My chief impression is a strong feeling of 
incapacity to criticize, partly from want of knowledge, and still 
more from not having fully thought out cardinal questions, 
such as the relation of philosophy and faith. E.g. you 
seem to me to make (Greek) philosophy worthless for those 
who have received the Christian revelation. To me, though 
in a hazy way, it seems full of precious truth of which I find 
nothing, and should be very much astonished and perplexed 
to find anything, in revelation. 

. . . The account of the early schools does not satisfy me, 
though I could not rewrite it. My own feeling is that the 
pure Ionics sought a philosophy, the Atomists a science, and 
that Anaxagoras work was a most deeply interesting attempt 
to harmonize the two. 

Is TO aTrfLpov of Anaximander the infinite of modern, or 
even late Greek, philosophy ? Is it not almost the formless, 
limit being a simpler and less developed state of the notion 
of form. 

. . . Without condemning anything you have said on the 
Stoics, I yet feel you have not done them justice. The 
spiritual need which supported, if it did not originate, their 
doctrine is, I think, profoundly interesting, above all in the 
present day. It is the attempt to keep alive among men that 
which distinguishes them from the brutes, by means partly of 
an unknown and unknowable and yet not unreal God, and 
partly by the order manifested in the world, itself the standard 
or centre both of being and knowledge. Much by no means 
all of the apparent self-sufficiency arose not from pride but 
from the necessity of dwelling on man as the highest thing in 
the world, that is, in the circle of knowable things. We must 
remember that the old religions were for all good purposes 
gone ; and Stoicism was surely an attempt to provide a good 
working substitute for religion for the common man as well as 
e philosopher. . . . 

P.S. I forgot to say that the paper which used to hurt 
rour eyes so much on the walls of my study is now superseded. 
r ill not that tempt you to come ? 


2 G 



ST. IPPOLYTS, December 7^, 1861. 

. . . My objection was that you seemed to make philo 
sophy only propaedeutic, and therefore of interest chiefly as an 
historical curiosity. First principles I also think cannot 
be established by philosophy; but I should hesitate to say 
that they are established by revelation either. I doubt whether 
the truth can be expressed so neatly and antithetically as your 
theory seems to require. Whether the fact be true or not, 
you have not attempted to prove that the successive abandon 
ments from Plato onwards were intrinsically necessary, and 
not accidentally arising from the character of the men and 
the times. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, December igth, 1861. 

... As touching Simonides, I want to examine it care 
fully for myself. If you can get me the loan of a copy, so 
much the better; if not, I must buy it. One never knows 
where to have that fellow. He undoubtedly has found 
genuine and valuable MSS. as well as forgeries. To make the 
thing more complete, he says he forged Tischendorf s Sinai 
MS., which is the biggest lie of all. 

A good deal of my work has gone into Luard s l book just 
out. For the part before printed (about half) I gave him a 
complete index, analysis, and the dates of a good many letters. 
I am hoping to get steadily to work at Simon and Co. 
now and try to get it done. It is a big job, but I like it 


ST. IPPOLYTS, January %th, 1862. 

My dear Ellerton No time to-day for other matters ; but 
I must send one word on a pamphlet, which you will, I hope, 
get by this or the next post against the Revised Code, 2 It is 

1 Grosseteste in the Rolls Series. 

2 Viz. of Elementary Education, 


an enlarged and altered copy of what I sent to Macmillan. It 
now appears by the wish of, and with some improvements 
suggested by, our good inspector, D. J. Stewart. The ex 
pense is borne by a friend of his. Copies are gone to all 
M.P. s, bishops, and peers ; also all leading or clerical managers 
in some districts, especially our own five E. counties; also 
London, and, I believe, Brighton. But centres of distri 
bution are wanted much in the W. of England. Can you 
suggest any people who would take charge of distribution, or 
at least supply lists of people to whom it would be worth 
while to send copies over a large district, say one, two, or three 
counties? Copies in any reasonable numbers will be supplied 

I had four such days in Cambridge early last week for the 
revision and correcting proofs of the pamphlet ; and will you 
believe it ? I did not see Trinity, being all the while at 
Stewart s house in Bene t Place. He is a wonderfully fine 
fellow, and I greatly enjoyed the talks and consultations. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, January 2Qth, 1862. 

My dear Westcott I am greatly vexed to hear that you are 
a friend to the Revised Code. My own feelings on the subject 
are very strong and decided. In the preservation and extension 
of precisely those features of education which R. C. cuts away, 
lies, I believe, the only hope of counteracting the terrible worldli- 
ness which is now taking hold of the lower orders, and of 
saving the mass of the clergy from being worse than con 
temptible. I cannot allow that popular clamour is on my 
side. I am constantly annoyed with the small appreciation of 
what we really owe to Sir J. K. Shuttleworth by those who 
grumble after a manner at the change. But there is also, I 
think, a considerable amount of not noisy disapprobation 
from those who have given their lives to the work. I cannot 
help hoping that you will yet change your mind ; more especi 
ally when you find out how very much larger and more reck 
less a section of public opinion supports the Times and Mr. 
Lowe against us. 



ST. IPPOLYTS, February 2ist, 1862. 

... I forgot at Cambridge to ask you whether you had 
seen Simonides papyrus fragments. They are extremely 
satisfactory from the incredible grossness and yet elaborate 
ness of the forgery. The clumsiness and ignorance of the 
text are quite enough by themselves to dispose of the notion 
that M l could be his handiwork, if it were not incredible 


ST. IPPOLYTS, April i$t&, 1862. 

. . . You must have misunderstood Lightfoot as to his 
part of the New Testament. It is only the Galatians that 
he hopes to get out this year, and that only because he 
wants to feel that something is actually out. I want to 
get on with a volume containing St. James, St. Peter, and 
St. Jude, and I am not without hopes of getting to press 
before the end of next year. But it is very doubtful. Inde 
pendently of the Commentary, which will cost much labour, 
there will have to be copious Prolegomena, including in point 
of fact a discussion of nearly all the great questions of German 
criticism for the last ten years. Everything turns on, or at 
least is involved in, what St. Peter s real position was, with 
reference to St. James on the one side and St. Paul on the 
other. 2 I shall also probably have to append some theolo 
gical essays after the manner of Jowett. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, April 30^, May ist, 1862. 

... By the way, in speaking of doings/ I forgot 
that I have been up twice to Blunt s. Once I went with 
him and Haden to Denmark Hill to see Ruskin s pictures. 

1 Tischendorf s Sinai MS. 

2 This question was treated in some of the latest of Hort s Cambridge 
Lectures, those on < Judaistic Christianity, 3 published after his death. 

AGE 34 



Ruskin unluckily was obliged to be out, so that we did 
not see him. The pictures, almost all Turner s, we did 
see, to our great enjoyment. Blunt has twice had him at 
Chelsea, and speaks of him in the highest terms. He seems 
to have been wonderfully taken with Blunt s children. Alto 
gether Blunt has fallen on his legs as to that sort of society. 
You know Carlyle lives not fifty yards from his garden door, 
and they have become great friends. Of Mrs. Carlyle they 
see a great deal. She is quite an oddity, but very genuine 
and good. After seeing her and hearing about her, one can 
quite understand John Sterling s love for that household. Dear 
old Carlyle himself seems to be terribly bitter, that being the 
form taken by his increasing sadness and despair of the world. 

Many thanks for the chants. They are, however, above us 
at present. I am indeed degenerate enough to be backing 
out of having Benedicite more than three times a year. In 
passing, I may as well mention that we have had for the last 
few weeks a Tonic Sol-fa class for the parish taught by a man 
at Stevenage. It takes very well, and will, I hope, be useful. 

I really don t know what to write about the Revised Code. 
I am simply disgusted at everything. Mr. Lowe is only like 
a sulky child, who, finding its own toy damaged, stamps on 
whatever lies in its way. What on earth will turn up out of the 
present hopeless medley, no one, I should think, can prophesy. 

I have not yet seen De Tocqueville or many other books 
that I want to read. We could not afford Mudie this winter ; 
and indeed had more than enough to read without him. Wil- 
shere has lent me vol. i. of Hook s Archbishops. As far as I 
have read, it is very amusing as a picture of Hook. It is 
quite whimsically commonplace, such solemn truisms an 
nounced, not without humour, as philosophical discoveries. 
It seems a useful and honest book of reference, but, as far as 
I have read, quite wanting in historical power. I am greatly 
afraid he will get out his third volume before mine, 1 and spoil 
the freshness of my subject. 

I am now working through Maurice s thick new volume of 
his philosophy. It has hardly so much life as its predecessors, 
but is full of matter. 

1 The volume on Simon de Montfort, etc. 


Macmillan has sent me a life of one Robert Story, which is 
well worth reading. He was a great friend of M Leod Camp 
bell, Irving, etc., and the first patient in the prophetic move 
ments out of which Irvingism arose was a parishioner of his. 
He does not strike me as a great man, but a vigorous, wise, 
and very good one. The latter part of the book contains a 
very strong attack on the Free Kirk movement. 

I have got but only glanced at Stephen s defence of R. 
Williams. It looks very different from the newspaper reports 
and much longer. Altogether I shall not be surprised if it 
becomes an important document in the Church history of the 
century. It seems to be clearly and broadly directed to 
maintaining that the English clergy are not compelled to 
maintain the absolute infallibility of the Bible. And, what 
ever the truth may be, this seems just the liberty required to 
be openly claimed and secured at the present moment, if any 
living belief is to survive in the land. And, when the issue is 
thus broadly raised, I do not see how the civil courts, with 
a library of English theology before them, can refuse the 
claim. If they do, there will be a pretty mess. Unfortunately 
the laity take things abominably coolly, and are far too much 
disposed to let the clergy fight it out. The best hope is in 
the traditional tolerance of English law. Ever affectionately 
yours, FENTON J. A. HORT. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, May yd, 1862. 

... I envy you your wandering by the Wye. This has 
perhaps been the week of the year for Tintern, though I can 
not but think autumn the best time for most of the Wye, and 
especially for the Bowder Stone and Symond s Yat views. 
You could not attribute uniformity to some autumn evening 
views I have seen from the Bowder Stone. Such subtle variety 
of atmospheres I have never seen elsewhere. By the way, I 
hope you do not join C. B. Scott in blaspheming Tintern as a 
building, though it is undeniably limited, and may have been 
so even before it was systematically stripped. 

AGE 34 




ST. IPPOLYTS, May 6tk, 1862. 

. . . You have taken a weight off my mind about Tintern. 
When Luard agreed with Scott, I began to distrust my own 
impressions, but every time I have seen the ruin since, it has 
vindicated its rights. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, May gth, 1862. 

... I quite enter into your feeling about revision. It 
comes over me now and then, especially after doing such a 
piece of text as Colossians. But I am quite sure it would 
be wrong to give way to it. The work has to be done, and 
never can be done satisfactorily relatively, I mean, to our 
present materials without vast labour, a fact of which hardly 
anybody in Europe except ourselves seems conscious. For a 
great mass of the readings, if we separate them in thought 
from the rest, the labour is wholly disproportionate. But 
believing it to be absolutely impossible to draw a line between 
important and unimportant readings, I should hesitate to say 
that the entire labour is disproportionate to the worth of fixing 
the entire text to the utmost extent now practicable. It would, 
I think, be utterly unpardonable for us to give up our task, 
and, if so, every reason conspires to urge us to finish it as 
quickly as possible, if only to get the burden off our necks. 
Every right-minded person, I suppose, has a relative contempt 
for orthographic details. Their dignity comes from their 
being essential to complete treatment. And I confess, when 
once at work upon them, I find a certain tepid interest as in 
any research depending on evidence and involving laws. 


MURREN, August 22nd, 1862. 
... I am in luck at present as to people, 
old folk, another couple have turned up. 

Besides the 
At first I looked at 


them only with curiosity, and we wondered who they could 
be. ... To-day at dinner they had a budget of letters, from 
which I found it was Dr. and Mrs. Acland of Oxford. He is 
about the first doctor there, very highly cultivated and 
scientific, and especially known as one of the best men living, 
given to every kind of good work, a great friend of Ruskin 
and Maurice. I was introduced to him (which he had very 
naturally forgotten) six years ago at Oxford, but he knew my 
name well enough. This may tempt me to remain here a 
little longer ; to-morrow is sure to be cloudy, but if Tuesday 
is fine we are to go up the Schilthorn together. 


MURREN, August 29/7*, 1862. 

. . . The Aclands started this morning, I fear for England, 
as it is so wet they are sure not to be going up to the 
Wengernalp. It has been such a very pleasant time with them 
both. ... I have had a great deal of talk on several subjects, 
mostly scientific, university, or theological ; and I have never 
seen a more perfect union of deep and fervent Christian feel 
ing with unflinching love and desire of truth on all possible 
subjects than in him ; and whatever she said was in complete 
keeping. Fancy a man having and retaining as dear and 
intimate friends Dr. Pusey, the Bishop of Oxford, Jowett, 
Stanley, Ruskin, Maurice, Owen, and the scientific people, 
and the artists. 


ENGSTLEN, September z$th, 1862. 

... I wonder whether the new archbishop is appointed 
yet (my last paper was the Journal de Geneve of Saturday), 
and among the possible candidates I hardly know whom to 
wish for, possibly the Archbishop of York or Lord Auckland. 
Chambers (whom I met the second day at the Little Scheideck 
returning from a four months honeymoon with his very pretty 
young bride, a niece of Hare s) told me that Stanley had a 



very fair chance; but that (without thinking him exactly a 
model archbishop) is surely too good to be true. 

. . . My feeling about the famous judgment l is very mixed. 
It leaves an impression of a scrupulous anxiety to be just, com 
bined with strange ignorance of theology and helpless self- 
surrender to the popular nineteenth century interpretations of 
theological terms as the only possible ones. ... As regards 
the effect, it is a great thing to have the Bible almost wholly 
unbound from its protecting chains, and some of the other 
decisions are good so far as they go. But that on the Athana- 
sian creed and punishment (which was not even argued (!)), 
and some others, may be very mischievous ; and above all, 
Dr. Lushington has laid down two sweeping doctrines which 
seem to me most unjust and fatal if allowed to stand: (i) 
that precedent (the holding of similar views by earlier 
Anglican writers) cannot be pleaded for an opinion which 
verbally contradicts a single sentence of the Articles (nor 
indeed can other sentences of the Articles by themselves be 
brought in justification), although the Gorham judgment was 
based on such a pleading of precedent as against the 
words of the Prayer-book; (2) that a clergyman is legally 
responsible for all doctrines contained in another man s book 
which he in any way edits or reproduces, except for such as 
he has separately and expressly repudiated. I suppose from 
what you say that the defendants have already appealed on 
the judgment itself; if so, I cannot help hoping that the 
superior court will think itself justified in assuming a semi- 
legislative power, and laying down the widest toleration for 
the clergy as well as the laity. 2 I am convinced that now, and 
for some time to come, mere naked freedom of opinion is the 
great thing to strive for as the indispensable condition of 
everything else. I wish St. Bartholomew s could have been 
marked by a voluntary dropping of the Act of Uniformity ; 

1 On the prosecution of Dr. Rowland Williams and Mr. Wilson, two 
of the writers in Essays and Reviews. See Life of Dean Stanley , vol. ii. 

P- 157- 

2 Dr. Lushington s decision, which sentenced the two essayists to a 
year s suspension, was in effect reversed by the Privy Council on February 
8th, 1864. See Life of Dean Stanley -, ibid. 


and I have for some time felt the Athanasian Creed to be a 
most serious hindrance to the Church. It alienates many, 
obscures the meaning and worth of the real Creeds, and is out 
of harmony with the rest of the Prayer-book. Therefore I 
suppose it will be hopeless to get rid of it, though thousands 
of the clergy of all schools in their hearts wish it would quietly 
vanish in the night. I am disposed to think we should on 
the whole be better also without the Articles in spite of their 
great merits, but I suppose Protestantism will guard them 

On things American I fear we do not agree. I do not 
defend the language of the English press and society, least of 
all their insane forgetfulness of the Southern character and 
policy in regard to slavery, behaviour towards England, and 
morality generally. Lincoln is, I think, almost free from the 
nearly universal dishonesty of American politicians (his letter 
to Greeley I know nothing about) j I cannot see that he has 
shown any special virtues or statesmanlike capacities. I do 
not for a moment forget what slavery is, or the frightful effects 
which Olmsted has shown it to be producing on white society 
in the South ; but I hate it much more for its influence on 
the whites than on the niggers themselves. The refusal of 
education to them is abominable ; how far they are capable 
of being ennobled by it is not so clear. As yet everywhere 
(not in slavery only) they have surely shown themselves only 
as an immeasurably inferior race, just human and no more, 
their religion frothy and sensuous, their highest virtues those 
of a good Newfoundland dog. If enjoyment and comparative 
freedom from sorrow and care make up happiness, probably 
no set of men in Europe (unless it be the Irish) are so happy. 
Their real and most unquestionable degradation, if altered by 
slavery, is hardly aggravated ; the sin of slavery to them is 
rather negative in hindering advance, yet what advance has 
there really been in the West Indies or Northern states? 
Nevertheless the thing is accursed most positively from its 
corrupting power over the dominant race. But, while agreeing 
with the advocates of the North that slavery is at the bottom 
of the whole conflict of South and North, as the chief though 
not sole cause of disunion, and also that the South separated 

AGE 34 



simply because Lincoln s election was a signal that the North 
had decided not to allow Southern policy any longer to hold 
the helm of the whole Union, I hold that the South had a 
perfect right to separate themselves and go their own way, it 
having been clearly shown by experience that one or the other 
half must ride rough-shod over the other, and that no really 
common action is possible. Hence I think the North is trying 
to do just what the South did before the rupture, with this 
vast difference, that it uses force and conquest. I hold, there 
fore, that the war is at once entirely a war of independence, 
and not at all for and against slavery, though it sometimes 
suits the North (and still more its English supporters) to 
represent it as such. While the war lasts^ therefore, I fully 
sympathize with the South. So much for the mutual rights 
and wrongs of the two contending parties. But that is only 
one part of the matter. I care more for England and for 
Europe thanj for America, how much more than for all the 
niggers in the world ! and I contend that the highest morality 
requires me to do so. Some thirty years ago Niebuhr wrote 
to this effect : Whatever people may say to the contrary, the 
American empire is a standing menace to the whole civiliza 
tion of Europe, and sooner or later one or the other must 
perish. Every year has, I think, brought fresh proof of the 
entire truth of these words. American doctrine (only too well 
echoed from Europe itself, though felt to be at variance with 
the institutions of Europe) destroys the root of everything 
vitally precious which man has by painful growth been learning 
from the earliest times till now, and tends only to reduce us 
to the gorilla state. The American empire seems to me 
mainly an embodiment of American doctrine, its leading 
principle being lawless force. Surely, if ever Babylon or 
Rome were rightly cursed, it cannot be wrong to desire and 
pray from the bottom of one s heart that the American 
Union may be shivered to pieces. This is not wishing ill to 
Americans, quite the reverse ; the breaking of their power as 
a nation (which has not brought, to the best of my knowledge, 
one single blessing on mankind) may, we may hope, be the 
first and a needful step towards their advancement in all 
higher and nobler respects. I am afraid you will think all 


this rank heresy, and I confess I should be puzzled to know 
how to speak wisely before the public, but thank God I am 
not a journalist ; as to my own hopes and fears (the latter ol 
which are still very considerable), I have no scruples. Ever 
affectionately yours, F. J. A. HORT. 


ST. JOHN S MOUNT, BRECON, October 1862. 

My dear I am much obliged to you for writing to 

me as you have done, though I could wish that your letter 
afforded more grounds for hope. You will forgive my saying 
that the points you dwell on leave the impression of being 
rather the most tangible and easily presentable grounds of 
attraction than those which really have the greatest power 
over you. I do not in the least mean that you are insincere 
in putting these prominently and even exclusively forward. I 
can quite understand the very natural state of mind which 
makes it scarcely possible to do otherwise ; what is really most 
to oneself is often just what is least capable of being conveyed 
to any one else. Only the consequence for me is that I must 
write very much in the dark, though using the points you 
have mentioned as so many finger-posts, if nothing more. 

One important exception must be made. You intimate 
pretty plainly and it is an important fact that what impels 
you in the first instance is weariness and dissatisfaction with 
the Church of England, and that Rome only comes in later, as 
it were, as possibly supplying that which you have sought for in 
vain here. This leads at once to what must in any case have 
been the burden of my letter, viz. that there are two entirely 
distinct questions for you to consider, the former and more 
important of which is commonly without any reason taken for 
granted. You ought to inquire whether you have a right to 
demand this or that as a necessary mark of a true Church, 
before you go on to ask whether the Roman Communion 
possesses these marks that you have prescribed. Unless you 
can clearly decide that such marks are necessary, to pass from 

AGE 34 

TTnrrl OM 


England to Rome merely because you like those marks, and 
because Rome has or seems to have them, would be only to 
act on the same principle as those Dissenters you speak of, 
who leave their church to follow a favourite preacher because 
he does them good. 

This is my text, and as I don t want to write you a sermon, 
I must ask you to consider the text dispassionately and 
repeatedly, in various lights. I know that if you come to my 
conclusion, it will involve, not merely your not stepping 
forward across the boundary, but also taking some steps back 
wards in one sense, though more truly forward in another 
direction ; I mean, you will have to give up some theories 
about the Church which are held by a great many English 
Churchmen. But we cannot too often remind ourselves that 
in all ages one of the commonest and most fatal snares has 
been our inbred fondness for making our own hopes and 
desires the standard of truth. For many most widely-spread 
opinions no other ground can be found than that it would be 
very pleasant to think so. 

I do not mean to dispute your statements about the Church 
of England. You would yourself, I have no doubt, allow that 
there are other opposite facts in abundance ; signs, I mean, of 
real unity in the midst of much difference, and of real guidance 
and instruction to the people at large. Nearly all that you 
say against us comes to this, that wide difference of opinion is 
tolerated within laity, clergy, and episcopate. There is no 
doubt about the fact, and I for one heartily rejoice at it, and 
am not in the least disposed merely to make apologies for it. 
The existence of differences of opinion among Churchmen 
may or may not be an evil ; but that is not the question. The 
differences being there, such unity as you seem to desire could 
only be obtained by excluding from the Church or ministry 
all who did not hold, or at least profess, a certain minutely 
prescribed standard of doctrine. It would surely requiix 
strong proofs indeed of the Divine necessity of such a proceed 
ing to reconcile one to the flood of obvious evils that would 
certainly ensue. Some would answer that the past latitude of 
the Church of England is responsible for the present differences 
of opinion. But this I entirely deny. On the whole, it seems 


to me that the guiding power and influence of the Church of 
England has been enormously multiplied by its toleration ; and, 
at all events, the differences of opinion are really due to a 
number of powerful causes which nothing could have resisted, 
and which may shortly be summed up as the political and 
social state of England at the time of the Tudors, produced 
by events during the Middle Ages, and to a great extent uncon 
nected with religious matters. Whether we like it or no, the 
fact is undoubted that the Church of a country is only one 
out of many very different agents which bring about its re 
ligious condition. 

No good would be gained by disputing whether the Prayer- 
book, Catechism, and Articles do or do not in any points con 
tradict each other. On the one hand, it is quite certain that 
they do spring from different ages of the Church, and there 
fore necessarily express different tones of mind. On the other 
hand I, at least, think it equally certain as an historical fact, 
notwithstanding the existence of contending parties within the 
English Church ever since the Reformation, that antiquity (in 
the Creeds and Prayer-book) and the sixteenth century (in the 
Articles) have harmoniously combined to produce in England 
a very noble type of Christian belief and devotion, which has 
powerfully affected for good even the extremes on either side. 

I am quite aware of the many faults in what is called the 
spirit of the English Church, and especially lament its insular 
character. But when disposed to find fault, I am once more 
obliged to ask myself how it could have been otherwise. The 
history of European politics and religion in the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries explains the unhappy necessity. But I 
cannot admit that this of itself shows the English Church not 
to be Catholic in any legitimate sense of the word. The word 
is habitually used in three different senses besides its literal 
original meaning universal. First, we speak of a catholic 
spirit, meaning one of wide and far-reaching sympathies, willing 
to hold converse with others very different from ourselves. 
Secondly, there is the stricter theological sense of belonging 
to the one historical undivided Church of different countries 
and perhaps different times. Thirdly, Romanists claim the 
title exclusively for those Churches which obey the Roman 

AGE 34 



See, and for convenience sake they are often called merely 
Catholics in ordinary conversation. Now, when you say that 
the English Church " can scarcely be called Catholic when she 
is not in communion with any portion of the Catholic world," 
you use the word first in the second and then in the third 
sense, thereby allowing Romanists to beg the whole question. 
Lord Shaftesbury might just as well ask, How can any one 
live an evangelical life who does not belong to the Evangelical 
Alliance ? Doubtless catholicity, in the second, which is the 
only legitimate theological sense (the sense of the Creeds 
which we inherit from a time when any supremacy on the part 
of the Roman See was all but unknown), is a somewhat vague 
and indefinite thing; doubtless communion with the See of 
Rome would supply a sharper and more easily applicable test ; 
but what of that, if it be a false and wrong one ? 

To go back to what I was saying just now, we may well 
regret that the Church of England is in avowed communion 
only with the Episcopal Church of Scotland and those of our 
own colonies and of the United States. But, on the one 
hand, our isolation from the ancient Churches of the East and 
West has been far more their act than ours ; and, on the 
other, every existing communion is guilty of the same exclusive- 
ness as ourselves. The undivided Christendom of the Roman 
Empire has, under the changed circumstances of modern times, 
split up into separate communions which most unhappily 
think they strengthen their own ground by questioning the 
legitimacy of the others. It is simply absurd that Anglican, 
Roman, Greek, Armenian, or any other, should suppose him 
self to be the only true representative of the Church of the 
Apostles. The fact is, the absolute and perfect catholicity, 
which Rome claims for her own dependants, now exists nowhere. 
To some this would seem a shocking denial of Christ s pro 
mises to His Church. But that is only because, in German 
fashion, they have settled in their own minds beforehand what 
the Church must be, without waiting to inquire what God has 
actually made it. 

After noticing the defects of the English Church, you con 
trast with them certain merits of the Roman Communion, most 
of which are comprised under uniformity and identity, and this 


you think likely to be a mark of Divine guidance. It is no 
satisfaction to me to spend time in pointing out Roman short 
coming ; but I must say one or two words. 

First, I freely allow a very considerable uniformity in the 
Churches subject to Rome, while I entirely deny the inference. 
Such uniformity is the natural and necessary consequence of 
superior organization that is, of compact and systematic co 
operation devised by human heads, and carried out by human 
heads and hands. Such an organization is, of course, in itself 
a merit. But the Roman organization would be powerless 
without the Roman supremacy. That is the keystone of the 
whole fabric. So long as there is an opinion in men s minds 
that the judgments of individual Churchmen or individual 
Churches must bow to the decision of a single Italian bishop, 
there is a powerful engine for nipping in the bud the tenden 
cies to diversity which are constantly arising. It is this human 
conviction, and the conduct which springs from it, which pro 
duces the uniformity, and not any Divine inspiration ; and the 
conviction will necessarily act in this way, whether it be true or 
false, which is quite a distinct question. I cannot see that the 
doctrine of the Roman supremacy has a shred of support from 
the Bible, or from the history of the early Church. The 
strongest point in its favour is the benefit which it rendered 
to society in the infancy of modern Europe before the great 
states had consolidated themselves. But then it seems to me 
equally clear that even during part, a considerable part, of the 
Middle Ages, and still more since the Reformation, its influence 
on society has been almost wholly mischievous. Its other 
great merit I have already mentioned, viz. its efficiency in pro 
moting external and, to a certain extent, internal unity. But 
this efficiency is gained only at the expense of truth, freedom, 
and the like, which we Protestants think more precious still. 

Secondly, The uniformity of which you speak is, after all, 
very imperfect. There have been and are still very violent 
oppositions of belief and practice within the Roman pale. No 
small proportion of the books prohibited in the lists of the 
Index Expurgatorius are written by zealous and able Romanists. 
Of course few would publicly assail distinctly recognised articles 
of the Roman Creed, but it is a delusion to suppose that you 



can be sure of everywhere hearing the same doctrine. The 
widest differences of tone and feeling undoubtedly prevail, and 
this is what really constitutes the doctrinal effect of preaching 
far more than the articles which receive verbal homage. More 
over, the very attempt at absolute uniformity is of quite modern 
origin. Romanism, as a sharply-defined distinctive Creed, is 
still younger than Protestantism. The decrees of the Council 
of Trent, as well as the last new Roman dogma, involve the 
condemnation of some of the greatest Churchmen of the 
Middle Ages, to say nothing of the Fathers. 

Thirdly, you say "a Roman Catholic is at home in his 
Church all over the world." I suppose most honest Protest 
ants have felt something of this when travelling abroad, and 
wished that they could have the same feeling. Why can they 
not ? Chiefly because there is so little communion between 
the different parts of Christendom, and for this Rome is even 
more responsible than any other body. It is a privation 
which Protestants have to endure ; but it throws absolutely 
no light on the right or wrong of the Roman supremacy. 
And most assuredly the advantage is not all on one side. 
The real blessing of Roman universality, viz. that community 
of Christians in different countries, has, I think, been dearly 
bought by the comparative loss of sympathy with national 
aims and interests. Every devoted Romanist sits compara 
tively loosely to the country to which he belongs, he cares far 
more for foreigners of his own communion. I do not deny 
that such a state of things may now and then be inevitable ; 
but I do say it is always an evil. It is mischievous both to 
the country and to the Church. A religion which is not fed 
by home and local influences is always morbid and usuall> 
superstitious ; a country with which its own Church does not 
identify itself, goes its own way very much without the bene 
ficial influence of the Church, and regards it as something 
outside, often even as an enemy. A time, we may hope, will 
come when it will be found possible for a Church to be in real 
communion with other Churches without losing its proper and 
natural place among its own people. Till then, we may, I 
think, well console ourselves in our isolation by the thought 
that, in spite of its own defects and in spite of Dissent, the 

VOL. I 211 


Church of England is still on the whole a really national 

Thus much I wished to say about the arguments which 
stand in front of the more shadowy but more persuasive 
attractions of Rome. The nature of these latter in your 
case I think I can in some degree conjecture by the help of 
one phrase that you use, viz. that your present state of mind 
is the result of the system in which you have been educated 
failing in your grasp like a dead branch. 

It may be that, like thousands of others, you have found 
yourself in increasing difficulty and uncertainty in matters of 
belief. I Possibly you are perplexed when you try to think 
important subjects out for yourself, or to understand clearly 
what the Bible has to say upon them ; and still more perplexed 
when, in despair of success, you turn to the various written 
documents of the Church of England, and yet more to its 
various living teachers. In such a state of mind there is 
necessarily a wonderful charm about a communion which 
professes to have an oracle able to pronounce with a single 
paramount infallible voice on all things in heaven and earth. 
This alone has drawn and will go on drawing innumerable 
people to Rome, enabling them to swallow the horror which 
they cannot help feeling at many Romish doctrines or practices. 
There is so strong a craving for such an oracular voice that 
the mere claim to possess it is eagerly accepted without 
question. But here, as in other cases, no foundation for the 
claim can be discovered except its convenience. Without 
going into the usual arguments about inconsistency, etc. 
(though I do not see how they can be answered), I would 
merely ask you to think over a few of the points on which 
the papal doctrines differ from those of other Christians, and 
then examine them by all possible tests of truth, such as 
harmony with the letter and spirit of the Bible (as distinguished 
from one or two isolated texts) harmony with the best and 
purest experience of yourself and of others whose whole 
character you honour tendency to promote a really noble 
and elevated thought of God tendency to promote a wise 
and Christian character in all estates of life and the like. 
The mere fact that men of singularly high character believe 

AGE 34 


these doctrines proves just nothing ; the same may be said for 
almost any imaginable doctrine. Nor, on the other hand, 
would I now lay much stress on considerations drawn from 
the moral state of Romish countries : other causes come into 
play there, and the whole question is too complicated for 
your purpose. But your own thought and experience ought 
to make it possible for you to come to a sufficiently clear 
decision as to the natural effect of papal doctrines, without 
having to decide between theological arguments. 

In saying just now that papal infallibility has only its own 
convenience in its favour, I used the word advisedly. I do 
not for a moment allow that it is a blessing denied to us, I 
believe it would be in reality a curse. In God s real teaching 
of us, asking and receiving, seeking and finding, are inextri 
cably combined. No truth is vital and fruitful to us at which 
we have not laboured ourselves. There is no disguising the 
doubt and difficulty which beset our inquiries ; but that is 
part of our appointed trial ; to fly from them to a supposed 
oracle is only a cowardly shirking of the responsibilities which 
God has laid upon us. 

Once more, it may be that you find life more vacant and 
insipid than it seemed a few years back. Perhaps you cannot 
easily find a purpose for your own life, or settle the footing on 
which you should stand towards others. And the Church of 
England seems to hold out no object to you, but to leave you 
very much to yourself. The Roman Communion promises 
better things. First and foremost, it puts you in the charge 
of a skilful and practised adviser, who will solve all practical 
doubts for you by telling you what to do and what to avoid. 
Then it supplies you with an object in the shape of a minutely 
prescribed life, consisting chiefly of observances which occupy 
the mind equally well whatever its own moods may be. By 
such helps as these, and by its whole spirit and system, the 
Roman Communion is very frequently successful in quieting 
and soothing those who have had much restlessness and 
trouble of mind before. Rome is therefore the natural refuge 
of those who think, or act as if they thought, that they were 
sent into the world to seek first their own comfort and ease of 
mind. The consolations, and even what are at first sight the 


painful duties, of Romish religion are for the most part care 
fully contrived means of relieving us from the burden of 
ourselves which I cannot help thinking we were intended to 
carry. In this case once more I would ask you to apply the 
same test as before, and, putting aside thoughts of personal 
inward comfort, consider whether the distinctive features of 
Romish religious life agree with the letter and spirit of the 
Bible, and whether they promote a higher communion with 
God, and a worthier and more really useful life towards 

I do not go into the question whether the English Church 
and clergy might not with advantage possess a greater guiding 
power over the minds and lives of individual Christians, with 
out injury to the personal liberty of spirit which seems to 
me the first condition of a truly Divine life. It is a question 
with many sides, and not easily answered. But I do say that 
the one great instrument of guidance which the Church ot 
England already possesses, viz. the Prayer-book, is, almost 
without exception, of the best and most wholesome kind. It 
leaves us to the responsibility of choosing our own path in 
life, and does not follow us minutely into its several changes 
and conditions, but keeps steadily before us the image of an 
ever-present God, and yet more steadily the unclouded image 
of His character, which all systems of personal religion, Romish 
and Protestant alike, are so prone to darken. Its purpose (as 
for instance in the two pairs of morning and evening Collects 
and the Collect before the Commandments) is not, when the 
work of life has lost its savour, to provide a consecrated substi 
tute, but to remind us for Whom all work is done, and to 
quicken life again at its very springs by pointing to Himself, 
and not any earthly representatives of Him or homage offered 
to Him, as the one permanent source of hope and peace. 
Such help as this is far harder to use than what Rome 
supplies, it requires the constant renewal of our whole selves ; 
but it is harder just because its purpose is so much higher 
and nobler. 

This letter is already much longer than I intended it to be 
when I began, and the subject is endless ; but I must stop 
now. I hope that nothing here said will give you pain. On 

AGE 34 



the other hand my wish has been, not to conceal my own 
very strong opinions on the subject, and I am sure this is 
what you would wish yourself. I hope you will let me hear 
from you again in a few days. 


November yd, 1862. 

I have got and partly read Colenso s book. His 
fussy wordiness is trying ; but on the whole I feel less inclined 
to blame him for publishing it than before, though the conse 
quences are likely to be bad enough. I suppose we shall all 
now be obliged to study the O. T. a little more, but I fear 
it is nervous work for those of us who would rather quieta non 
movere in that particular matter. I cannot help fearing that 
we shall sooner or later be driven to take some such ground 
as that of Ewald and Bunsen, however little satisfied with 
their special criticisms. But at present I feel as if I knew 
nothing either way. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, November 2$t/t, 1862. 

. . "Some one thing." Yes, so I say to myself (say) 
twice a day ; but which ? Text must always go on till done. 
Commentary ought to be being prepared for years before 
hand ; and Lightfoot will so soon be ready with something, 
that I don t like to be much behindhand; also one wants 
some theological work that is not all BLX. am., etc; 1 
also the three apostles will cover what I have to say on 
divers things; at least I hope before printing to be able 
to make up my mind what I have to say. Then I took up 
the Simon and Co. as a rapid and remunerative job, and 
have actually (a great fact) written a great deal, almost ready 
for the press ; so that can hardly be put in the cupboard. 
Thus, like the youth in Bleak House, I take credit to myself 

1 Viz. symbols representing manuscripts. 


for adjourning Winer and things in general; though the 
latter topic sometimes threatens to take precedence of every 
thing. This is a lamentable state of things, I daresay; but 
how to mend it? 


ST. IPPOLYTS, December 26^, 1862. 

My dear Macmillan I rather want to have a few words 
with you on book matters. One consequence of your con 
clave at Lightfoot s rooms the other night was a strict injunc 
tion to me from him and Westcott to give up everything else 
(except N. T. text) and work steadily at the notes on St. 
James, and then on my other epistles. Rebellious though I 
be, I must confess that it is good advice, and I am prepared 
to act on it. Said notes will certainly take me a long time ; 
and, when they are done, there will remain a big piece of 
work in the shape of introduction and essays, critical and 
theological, to be done before going to press. All this and 
other thoughts of my own of the same kind have been lead 
ing me to suspect that I ought to shelve Simon de Montfort 
and Co. I do so very reluctantly, as I enjoy it thoroughly, 
and have written a great deal almost ready for the printer. 
But, even keeping the book within the narrowest limits, I 
have still a great deal before me. If I were to put everything 
else completely away, it would still take several, probably 
many, months. I should never in the first instance have 
undertaken it except as a means of rapidly getting some 
money, in which it has signally failed; and the series to 
which it was to belong has to all appearance dropped through. 
I shall still hope some day to go on with it, and it is a great 
vexation to me to let it alone now, but on the whole it seems 

In its place another small plan has arisen, which seems 
rational. The work upon St. James, which is now to occupy 
me chiefly, will necessarily involve minute study of the LXX., 
of Proverbs, and the kindred books of the O. T., and per 
haps still more, Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus. You may 
remember that long^ ago I undertook to edit those two 



books for Dr. Smith ; and, though his commentary is appar 
ently shelved, I have still always hoped some time or other 
to complete the edition. For the last year or two, however, 
I have sometimes thought that, without waiting for that, I 
should like to print a revised translation of those two books 
separate from the rest of the Apocrypha. I fancy that a 
great many people would like to have them so, to whom 
they are now practically lost by being buried under Bel and 
the Dragon, Judith, etc. And the last day [or two ?] it has 
occurred to me that they would form a good subject for a 
not unpopular volume of your Golden Treasury series, which 
would have the further advantage of being remunerative. I 
should entirely exclude all critical matter, which would require 
much labour, and for which all the materials are not yet 
published. It would be merely a revision of the Authorised 
Version from the Greek, with perhaps a very few short ex 
planatory notes where absolutely necessary. In the case of 
Ecclesiasticus there are two different arrangements of the 
parts (with some differences of text), the Greek and the 
Latin. In a critical edition both must be taken into account. 
The Authorised Version follows the Latin arrangement; I 
should simply follow the Greek. My Greek text would be 
constructed almost entirely from the four great MSS. ; of 
course it would not appear. Of course this little book would 
take some time from other things, but very little. Nearly all 
the study required for doing it is what I ought in any case to 
do with a view to St. James. It would be to me very enjoy 
able work, and I have little doubt that the volume would sell 
well. Write and tell me what you think. Very truly yours, 



ST. IPPOLYTS, Jan uary 4^, 1863. 

My dear Macmillan I acquiesce in your verdict without 
a murmur, at all events for some time to come, and will try 
to gird myself resolutely to the commentary and the text. Of 
course you do not expect me to agree in your estimate of 


Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus, which seem to me books of 
singular interest for their own sakes as well as historically. 
I do not indeed agree with Tom Hughes in wishing they 
replaced Proverbs and Ecclesiastes in the Canon, as there are 
divers good reasons for not making them Scripture ; and he 
obviously did not appreciate Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. But 
I do think they are very much more than echoes of the older 
wisdom, for, to mention only one point, they represent some 
of the most wholesome effects of Greek thought on the 
Jewish mind. 

One thing that made me think of the plan is that they are 
the truest link between the O. T. proper and St. James, who 
is himself a flyleaf. 

I will now work hard at St. James, and try to get his 
commentary done. But I should greatly shrink from pub 
lishing him alone. I quite wish to combine with him all my 
epistles, viz. i, 2 Peter and Jude. This will make, to say 
the least, a portly volume, as there will be an immense 
introduction, which will virtually have to include all the great 
N. T. critical questions discussed of late years in Germany, and 
even the Church history of a century and a half. There 
must also be some heavy theological essays in Jowett s 
manner. In some respects it would be a relief to have 
something printed, and so to separate James from the rest ; 
but practically this would be impossible in the historical part 
of the introduction. 

I am very anxious to see the type, as I cannot make it 
out from Westcott s description. But I suspect that anyhow 
I am not likely to be ready for two or three years, even with 
unremitting work. If I had no parish and no nerves, it 
might be different. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, January $th, 1863. 

... I cannot let the 5th of January pass by without send 
ing you one line just to tell you (what you know already) how 
precious you are to us all, and to send you all possible good 
wishes from us both. We do quite trust that with God s 
blessing your two doctors will between them set you on your 



legs again ; but we have under present circumstances more 
faith in Dr. Kate than in any of them, and are so glad to 
know that she has really succeeded in putting you into a band 
box and walking you off to Brecon. So now what you have 
got to do is to set hard to work to amuse yourself as much as 
you can ; have Mudie (or some substitute) for part of the day, 
try to know every stone in the Priory by heart, see what mosses 
you can find in the Priory walks, or something of that sort. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, February gth, 1863. 

, . I have a piece of news which will perhaps surprise 
you. We have decided to leave St. Ippolyts for three years, 
and live chiefly with my father and mother at Cheltenham. 
There is a twofold reason for this : first (the immediate occa 
sion), my mother s very low state of health and eyesight, which 
makes our presence almost a necessity; and, secondly, my 
own health, which has declined very much this winter, and 
requires a long rest from the worry of parish life. ... I 
must still go to the Alps or some such place in the summers. 
Naturally botany and geology will occupy me a good deal, if 
only for medical reasons ; as they will attract me to the 
Cotteswolds, and so supply both exercise and pure air. But I 
shall hope to get through a good deal of other work too. 

I had a friend staying here not long ago, who helped me 
to explore the drift which covers this country, and interpreted 
its pebbles and fossils, which are tolerably numerous. He 
identified it clearly as chiefly composed of the waste of lias, 
Oxford clay, and Kalloway rock, besides flints, and some 
sandstone from the Old Red. The common fossil is the 
monstrous oyster of the Oxford clay, Gryphtza dilatata. 


ST. IPPOLYTS, February i;///, 1863. 

. . I am wading wearily through Colenso s Psalms. Was 
there ever such a mess? I hope you saw Mat. Arnold s 
(second) article in the February Macmillan. 


Your scepticism amuses me much. Our drift is assuredly 
not exclusively formed from the waste of our own immediate 
neighbourhood (I suppose very little drift is) ; indeed the 
number of flints is to me the most surprising fact about it. 
Mr. Norwood told me that all the drift about which he knows 
anything in the E. of England has come from the N. or 
N.W., and the N.W. agrees well with the contents of our 
drift. He has a minute and exact knowledge of the fossils and 
rocks of the lias and inferior oolite of Gloucestershire and 
Yorkshire, and a tolerable knowledge of those of higher forma 
tions. Some specimens he took to town to show to Wood 
ward of the British Museum, and Etheridge the palaeontologist 
of Jermyn Street, both of whom he knows well; and they 
(Etheridge in particular) came to the same conclusions. The 
majority of species are from the lias, all the others, that can 
be certainly identified, from Oxford clay, Kalloway rock, and 
perhaps Oxford calcareous grit. There are also rolled pebbles 
of quartz, which Norwood says can come from nowhere nearer 
than Old Red, though doubtless not directly thence. They 
make up, he says, what is called the Bredon (drift) gravel in 
Worcestershire, and occur, as rounded as now, in beds in the 
New Red, out of which they were probably washed. This 
one drift includes remains from all the softer formations to the 
N.W. except the Kimmeridge clay, which appears to be a very 
narrow strip, and the gault, which there is some reason to 
think not to be fossiliferous hereabouts. At all events there 
are the two great soft formations, the lias and the Oxford 


ST. IPPOLYTS, March igth, 1863. 

. . . My mother has been ordered to Vichy, and we are 
to accompany her. She is to be there for two visits of three 
or four weeks each, with an equal interval probably somewhere 
in the Auvergne mountains. We shall then, I hope, be able 
to get some little way into the Alps, whence I shall probably 
go alone for a few weeks into the higher regions. 

... I had three-quarters of an hour at Jermyn Street, and 

AGE 34 



showed Etheridge some twenty-three species of minute shells, 
etc. (chiefly fry), which had come out of a single small piece 
of soft sandstone from one drift. He pronounced the forms 
to belong without question to the calcareous grit (lower coral 

. . . Huxley s recent books have been somewhat annoying 
me. Those people seem incapable of seeing beyond their 
scalpels and test-bottles. On the other hand, there are some 
slight signs, I think, that their friends among University men 
are becoming less one-sided. For one, M. Arnold s second 
paper on Colenso had surely the true ring of belief, with all 
its defects. 


Printed by R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh